


Gone before we even knew you

by tashaxxxxxx



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tashaxxxxxx/pseuds/tashaxxxxxx
Summary: When Jaskier loses his baby, he can't cope.  He doesn't know how.  And neither does Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This contains mentions of stillbirth. Please do NOT read if you are uncomfortable.

Geralt had always found it hard to leave his family but this time was so much harder. He hadn’t thought it could get harder than when he and Jaskier had first adopted Ciri. The little girl, barley 6 years old and still struggling following the death of her Grandparents, had clung to his side and begged him not to leave. Leaving had torn a hole in his heart even knowing Ciri would be fine. She had Jaskier and Yennefer to look after her. But still…seeing her betrayed emerald eyes watch him through the window of Jaskier’s car when his husband had driven him to the airport. Fuck.

That had been 7 years ago and Ciri had taken his leaving a lot better since then. It helped that Geralt didn’t leave for the long periods he had at the beginning of his and Jaskier’s relationship. He had joined the army at the age of 16, straight after finishing school. Until that point he’d been a trouble maker, most of his teachers and the hundreds of foster care homes he had frequented since his Mother had left him when he was 6 always said he’d end up in prison, that he would become nothing.

They would have been right but Geralt had been lucky. He’d found a home, family in the army. Fuck his brothers, Eskel and Lambert had been his best men at his and Jaskier’s wedding. Vesemir, his commanding officer when he first came to the army, who had taken Geralt under his wing and seen the potential under the angry quiet teenager, had been the one to officiate the wedding.

Geralt had gone on numerous tours by the time he had met Jaskier. He’d just turned 23, had been dragged out to a local bar at the insistence of his brothers. Geralt had had an excuse ready before they’d even gotten out of the flat they shared so he could leave within a few hours of coming. Lambert would be to drunk and distracted by Aidan at that point and Eskel would just frown at him but he wouldn’t stop Geralt from leaving. They understood Geralt’s unwillingness to be out in large crowds. He blamed it partly on his upbringing, Geralt’s refusal to spend to long in public surroundings. They wouldn’t be mad. Fuck, they’d just be glad Geralt had actually gone out of once instead of spending every spare moment he had training.

And then an hour into being in the stinking bar, Geralt had seen Jaskier. Actually,, if he was honest, he’d smelt the omega first. The whole bar had. The bar was mainly used by alpha’s, and a few daring beta’s like Aidan, but there was never an omega there. Until now. Jaskier had smelt like wildflowers. A heady vibrant scent that had Geralt sitting straighter in his seat. He’d watched as Jaskier, dressed in ridiculously bright colours and a guitar case strung over his back. Bright red skinny jeans, hugging his slim figure. Black button up shirt with a pattern of neon pink, yellow, orange and green flowers swirling over the dark colours making the omega look like a shining light in the otherwise dim room. And then he’d turned his head slightly in Geralt’s direction, face lit up in a blinding grin, blue eyes so bright. Geralt could have gotten lost in those eyes.

The omega had instantly been set upon by alphas, all grinning broadly and offering to buy the omega or drink or asking the omega for a dance. Jaskier had just grinned broadly, shaking his head and making his way over to the bar where a bartender was motioning for him to come into the back. Geralt had watched him go until the omega’s bright red skinny jeans had disappeared behind a back door and the trance had been broken. Geralt had growled at himself angrily, glaring at his drink in annoyance. Even if he had the balls to go up to someone like that he would be shot down instantly. The omega probably already had someone waiting at home for him, of course he did. 

“You ok?” Eskel asked, slapping a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and forcing Geralt back into the large group around him. Letho and Aukes had a deck of cards on the table, already dealing Lambert and Aidan in as the drinks flowed. Geralt just grunted in answer, mind still on the omega he had just seen. 

Geralt didn’t leave as he’d originally planned and he would forever be grateful for that as half an hour after Geralt had originally planned to leave, the omega appeared again. He grinned seductively at the crowd, guitar cradled in his arms as he gracefully jumped onto the stage. He introduced himself as Jaskier and as the omega’s long slender fingers touched the guitar, Geralt was instantly hooked.

He didn’t like music, or rather never had time for music, but Geralt thought he could listen to Jaskier sing forever. His voice was beautiful, deep and rough, capturing the listeners ears and dragging them into the story he weaved with only his voice and guitar. The whole bar was near silent when Jaskier finished the first song, before a loud round of applause ran across the room. Geralt just sat watching Jaskier with wonderment.

After that night, Geralt went to the bar every night Jaskier was playing. He found out from the bar staff that Jaskier was a student at the local University, Oxenfurt, and played their most weekends. Geralt guessed it was for a bit of extra cash but was surprised when one of the bartenders let slip Jaskier was doing it for free and a love for the audience.

Jaskier gained a large crowd every night. Mostly alphas, though a few betas and even a small number of omegas braved the otherwise alpha dominant bar to watch Jaskier play. Every night Jaskier would grin madly and make a dramatic over-the-top bow before launching into his set. And every time Geralt was drawn into the world Jaskier created with his voice.

Geralt hadn’t been in a relationship since Yennefer. He’d met Yennefer a few years after he joined the army, introduced by their mutual friend Triss, and Geralt had fallen hard and fast for the feisty alpha. It was rare an alpha and alpha relationship worked and Geralt shouldn’t have been surprised his and Yennefer’s love burned out so quickly. It was a fiery anger filled love. The need to be together as violent as the arguments they had, though it was Geralt’s job that finally caused the relationships inevitable demise. Yennefer wanted someone to be there for her, not someone who left for months on end and had no guarantee of even coming back. They were still friends, better friends than lovers. Yennefer was the only person Geralt truly trusted outside of his brothers and Vesemir.

Lambert had asked Geralt why he wouldn’t just ask the omega out on a date to stop Geralt mooning over him, which Geralt denied angrily. He wasn’t mooning. He wasn’t…except Jaskier’s bright blue eyes and voice filled all of Geralt’s waking and sleeping dreams. But he wasn’t mooning. And even if he was it would, could never go anywhere. Jaskier was…he was perfect. He probably already had an alpha at home and even if he didn’t he had the pick of anyone in the world. He would never choose Geralt. He would want someone who could be there for him, not Geralt who was always away from home and even when he was at home was still missing emotionally (at least according to the few partners he’d had since Yennefer and Yennefer herself).

Geralt was quite content to watch Jaskier from afar and he would have probably continued doing so until a month after Jaskier had started performing at the bar, a month after Geralt had become a near regular to every one of Jaskier’s shows, the omega instead of taking his designated seat at the bar walked over to him. Geralt hadn’t even realised Jaskier was walking towards him, thinking the omega was going to someone else, until he’d stopped in front of Geralt.

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood.” Jaskier had grinned, voice as captivating speaking as it was singing. He was in dark green skinny jeans today, coupled with a bright yellow shirt that reminded Geralt of Dandelions. His bright blue eyes grinning mischievously as he settled himself in a stool opposite Geralt. “You must have a review for me. Three words or less.”

Geralt just stared at Jaskier, mind seeming to have stalled the second Jaskier sat opposite him. Jaskier’s vibrant smile faltered a little the longer Geralt remained silent and Geralt silently cursed himself. “It’s not real.” Geralt internally cringed at himself as he spoke the first words that came into his mind.

“What’s not real?” Jaskier asked, taking a sip of the glass of water the waitress had passed him.

“The story.” Geralt growled, still cursing himself for his inability to just shut up before he scared Jaskier away completely.

But Jaskier just grinned, taking it all in his stride. “Of course it is. Stories of true love are always true.”

“True love isn’t real.” Geralt replied spitefully. He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment the more he spoke and he was grateful the dim lighting of the bar hid his blush from view.

He expected Jaskier to get up and leave in annoyance but Jaskier just grinned brightly, eyes raptly fixed on Geralt. “The next thing I’ll be hearing is you don’t believe in love at first sight.” Geralt growled in answer and then had to suppress a grin as Jaskier put a hand on his heart in mock affront. “You good sir obviously have had poor luck in love then. It’s the only explanation.” In a way Jaskier was right but Geralt wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead he just hummed. “I’ve seen you a few times here before you know.” And now Geralt did duck his head, cursing himself. Of course Jaskier had noticed him, sitting in the corner of the bar all but glaring at the singer whenever he appeared. Fuck, fi the floor could swallow him whole now. “I have to admit I was a little intimidated by the angry scowling at first, otherwise I’d have come over a lot sooner.” Jaskier finished the sentence with a wink that had Geralt pushing aside a sudden rush of arousal. Fuck, this omega was a seductive little minx.

“Not the traditional way an omega acts.” Geralt grunted before he could stop himself.

Jaskier rolled his eyes in answer. “I’ve never been one for tradition. The thought of being locked in a house and forced into the role of housewife.” Jaskier fake dry heaved at that, making Geralt huff a silent laugh which made Jaskier grin brighter. “And why should an alpha be the first to make a move. Essie always told me if you wait for an alpha to make the first move you’d be waiting until your dead.” Wait, was this a move? “And what about you my dear? Do you think I’m being to forward?” 

“You haven’t done anything yet.” Geralt grunted before he could stop himself. Jaskier grin got even bigger, if that was possible.

“Well then, I suppose I should rectify that then.” And Geralt watched in silent shock as Jaskier pulled out a pen and paper from the depths of his guitar case. He scribbled number on the back and then handed over the paper to Geralt. “Call me.” And before Geralt could even reply, Jaskier was walking away.

It took Geralt 3 days, and a not so gentle shoving from Yennefer who his traitorous brothers had called when Geralt had moped around the army base for 3 days straight, glaring at the number Jaskier had given him, before he rang the omega. Jaskier picked up on the second ring. His bright melodious voice almost had Geralt hanging up but before he could Jaskier had asked “Geralt?” And Geralt was stuck.

Geralt had, rather gruffly and un-gentlemanly if he asked Eskel who had with zero shame sat opposite Geralt when he made the phone call, asked Jaskier on a date. But Jaskier hadn’t seemed to mind, actually fucking squealing in excitement down the line as he enthusiastically agreed. They’d agreed on coffee the next day. Which left Geralt exactly a day to in Lambert’s opinion freak out and be a fucking arsehole about the whole thing.

But despite Geralt’s inner panic at going on a date, he had made it there. After being dragged by Eskel and Lambert who had seen Geralt pacing the length of the army barracks an hour before he was due to meet Jaskier, telling himself every reason this was a bad idea.

But the second Geralt had met Jaskier’s eyes across the coffee shop, all the nerves and self-doubt had evaporated. They spent the whole day together, Jaskier doing most of the talking but he didn’t seem to mind and Geralt certainly didn’t. And when it was finally time to go their separate ways, Geralt had walked Jaskier back to his dorm. Jaskier’s hand had brushed against Geralt and steeling his nerves, the alpha had bent his head down to kiss Jaskier softly. The kiss was chaste and short but it had left them both breathless and a warm feeling in Geralt’s whole chest as he watched Jaskier go into his dorm and close the door.

They spent every spare moment they had outside of Geralt’s training schedule and Jaskier’s University classes, together. And it was perfect. Geralt had never been so happy. Until exactly a month since their first date Geralt got his orders for his next tour. 6 months. 6 months away from Jaskier.

Geralt had told Jaskier the very next day, fully expecting Jaskier to curse at him and accuse him of not caring about him. Except Jaskier had just frowned, blue eyes filled with concern as he nodded his head slowly. “Well, you’ll just have to make sure you write then.” And Geralt had stared at Jaskier in shock as Jaskier leant in to kiss him softly. “You told me what you did on the first date. I knew what I was getting into.”

But despite Jaskier’s words, Geralt still doubted Jaskier would remain with him. Jaskier went with Geralt to airport, kissing him goodbye and then ducking his head in embarrassment as Lambert wolf whistled from the background. But Geralt still doubted the omega. Even after all the letters they exchanged, and the phone calls made when Geralt was somewhere with a signal, Geralt still doubted. He doubted Jaskier until the second he got outside the airport and caught a whiff of wildflowers in the air. And then he had an armful of Jaskier and Geralt didn’t doubt anymore as he kissed Jaskier softly, Jaskier holding him tight and grinning madly in happiness.

It was 3 years into their relationship that Geralt gained his promotion to the Witchers. A special unit of the army that dealt with harder, more dangerous missions. Geralt had been handpicked, along with Eskel, Lambert and a few others. His old mentor, Vesemir ran the unit and had chosen the very best among the army for this unit. Geralt had been hesitant. While this new job would give him more free time to spend with his Jaskier, it would mean when he did have to leave it would be on much more dangerous missions. Jaskier had called him ridiculous when Geralt told him his misgivings. 

“You want this Geralt. I know you and you want this.” Jaskier had hummed, kissing Geralt as he lay wrapped in Geralt’s arms. They’d moved in together a year ago and Geralt still to this day couldn’t believe his luck when he woke to Jaskier in his arms.

“It’s dangerous Jask.” Geralt had hummed, kissing Jaskier’s hair who just looked at him with bright blue eyes.

“Your job is dangerous Geralt, it always has been. But that hasn’t stopped you before.” Before though Geralt hadn’t had Jaskier. As if sensing Geralt’s thought, Jaskier had smiled and ran a hand through Geralt’s white hair. “I’m terrified every time you leave me but I’d never ask you to stop, not when I know it makes you happy. Not when I know you’re making a difference. So take the job. For me.” And Geralt had never been able to argue with Jaskier so had hummed and kissed his omega.

Triss and Jaskier acted like siblings, the two constantly gossiping about every tiny little thing. It was exhausting just watching the two when they were together, both talking a mile a minute, grinning broadly the whole time. Yennefer and Jaskier were a stranger mix. At first Jaskier had been hesitant about Geralt’s ex, until Geralt had assured his omega that he was Jaskier’s now, no one else’s. After that, the two had gotten on better, Jaskier proving himself to Yennefer in the quick-witted insults they threw at each other every moment they were together. Any outsider would think they hated each other but Geralt knew the approving smirk on Yennefer’s gaze well enough to know Yennefer had accepted Jaskier.

Geralt had dragged Yennefer and Triss to the ring shop the day after accepting to job offer from Vesemir. He’d been nervous, wanting to pick the perfect ring for his Jaskier. It was to be perfect. Jaskier deserved the world. He deserved everything. It was Yennefer who found the ring. A simple silver band with a small diamond set in the middle, sparkling brightly under the shop display lights. It wasn’t ornate or vibrant like Jaskier was, more simple and dainty looking. But it was perfect.

Geralt asked Jaskier a week later. He’d had a plan, was going to take Jaskier to a fancy restaurant, wine and dine his beloved and then take him to Jaskier’s favourite spot in the park. Just by the large pond, fairy lights twinkling above them. He would ask Jaskier their…except a week after buying the ring Geralt had been sat on their couch when Jaskier had walked down the stairs of their house, sighing loudly before dropping himself onto the couch and leaning into Geralt’s side, groaning about a long day at the music studio he’d started up a few months ago when he’d finished University. Jaskier had been dressed in ridiculous pink pyjama’s with unicorns on them and Geralt had just looked at Jaskier, listening to Jaskier moan about how he thought his ears were going to bleed listening to Valdo fucking Marx destroy Jaskier’s recording equipment trying to record a mind-blowing album.

“I mean it was definitely mind-blowing, just not in the good sense.” Jaskier grinned, turning his gaze up to Geralt. “What?” Jaskier laughed, seeing the way Geralt was staring at him with a strange expression on his face.

Geralt had the ring out of his pocket, where he had been keeping it since buying it, and was pushing Jaskier off him before he’d even thought about it. Jaskier had sat up, eyes wide with shock as Geralt dropped to one knee, holding the ring box up to Jaskier. “Marry me.” Geralt growled, wincing at the uncouth words. But Jaskier hadn’t cared, throwing his arms around Geralt.

“Yes. Yes, a million time yes.” Geralt had never felt so happy in his whole life hearing those words as he placed the ring onto Jaskier’s finger.

The wedding was 6 months later. Geralt had stood at the aisle with his heart pounding. Eskel and Lambert stood next to him. They wore their uniforms, mirrored by the other Witchers in the audience. As the doors swung open, Geralt had felt himself stand taller watching Jaskier being walked down the aisle. Jaskier had wanted a traditional wedding, wearing a long white gown. The lace and sparkling beadwork sparkled in the lights above. Jaskier’s was holding a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers; yellow, oranges and reds. They mixed with Jaskier’s heady wildflower scent.

When Jaskier’s Father had placed Jaskier’s hand on Geralt’s shoulder, he had nodded at Geralt before stepping away. The whole ceremony was a blur, Geralt’s eyes fixed on Jaskier’s blue eyes sparkling in happiness. And then rings were exchanged and Geralt had Jaskier in his arms, kissing his belove, his husband, his omega. Jaskier had been right, true love truly did exist.

They mated a month later, during Jaskier’s heat and Geralt’s rut. It was the first heat and rut they’d shared, not that they hadn’t explored each other’s bodies before their wedding but a heat and rut where different. Meant for mated pairs, for their partners. It was an amazing experience. Jaskier warm and pliant in Geralt’s arms, so responsive to under Geralt’s touch. And the bonding…it was heady, like Jaskier was apart of Geralt now. The scent of wildflowers and Geralt’s own spicy alpha scent mixed together in a heady intoxicating scent. It was perfect.

Jaskier broached the subject of children a year into their marriage. 4 years since marrying. Geralt had been unsure, afraid he wouldn’t be a good parent. Fuck, he knew he wouldn’t be. How could he be after his own upbringing. He couldn’t be a good Father if he didn’t even know what a Father was. It was their first huge argument, leaving Geralt yelling at Jaskier.

“You pile all this shit in my life and now you want a child as well.” It wasn’t true, Geralt knew it and Jaskier knew it. If anyone piled shit into their lives it was Geralt with his constant leaving for work, leaving Jaskier with the responsibility of keeping their home running, paying all their bills on top of dealing with Geralt’s absences, never knowing if Geralt would even make it home or not. But Geralt had known those were the words that would hurt Jaskier most. 

He regretted it instantly, watching Jaskier’s face crumple. “Well, if that’s how you feel.” And before Geralt could say anything Jaskier was grabbing his keys and storming out of their home. He hadn’t even taken his shoes or a coat.

Geralt had spent the whole night worrying about Jaskier until he’d gotten a call the next day from Triss telling him to come and apologise to Jaskier. Apparently Jaskier had spent the whole night with her, crying his eyes out and believing Geralt hated him. Geralt had felt his heart clench in sorrow and hadn’t been surprised when he’d turned up to Triss standing at her front door, glare fixed on her face. “Hurt him and I don’t’ care if you’re specially trained, I’ll end you.”

And Geralt had known she would have every right to. He’d found Jaskier in Triss’ guest bedroom, hidden under the blankets in a make-shift nest, silently crying. “I’m sorry.” Geralt had growled, watching as Jaskier appeared from the duvet, eyes red from crying as he looked at Geralt with hesitance. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. It isn’t true.”

“They why did you say it.” Jaskier growled back, anger and hurt warring in his tone.

Geralt hesitated, eyes cast into his hands on his lap. “I’m afraid.” Geralt admitted. “I can’t be a Father.”

Jaskier moved cautiously to Geralt, ever forgiving of Geralt after Geralt had hurt him so badly. “Of course you can.” Jaskier said, hesitantly leaning into Geralt’s side. Geralt automatically wrapped arms around Jaskier’s body, bringing him close and relaxing to the scent of wildflowers surrounding him. “You are the kindest sweetest man in the world.” Geralt huffed a laugh. Of course Jaskier would believe that. Jaskier who saw the good in everyone, even Geralt. “I won’t make you.” Jaskier whispered, voice quiet. “It’s both our choices and if you don’t want children then I won’t make you.”

“I do.” Geralt whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head. “I want that. With you.”

They started trying at Jaskier’s next heat. Male omegas were only able to become pregnant during their heats so Jaskier stopped taking his pregnancy stoppers to Geralt’s continuous encouragement with a shy smile. Jaskier was uncharacteristically shy during that heat, Geralt not much better as he hesitantly touched Jaskier as if this was their first time despite the heat of his own rut running through him.

Neither had been surprised that Jaskier hadn’t been pregnant following that first heat. It was after all the first time they’d tried to get pregnant so it was understandable it wouldn’t take the first time. But then it didn’t take 3 months later at Jaskier’s next heat. Or the next. Or the next.

The Doctor’s blamed Geralt. Jaskier didn’t, Jaskier never would. But the Doctors had all but said the words saying it was Geralt’s fault. A low sperm count. Highly unlikely he would ever get Jaskier pregnant. One in a million chance. And it hurt, more than Geralt thought it would. Jaskier was the only reason Geralt had managed to get through the shock that the one thing Geralt had never even considered before Jaskier, that he wanted more than anything with Jaskier since his omega had asked him; he couldn’t do. Jaskier had never once blamed him. Never would.

It wad actually been Aidan’s idea of adoption. It had been a throw away comment on a night out with the Witchers but it had left Geralt thinking. Adoption. It wouldn’t be their child by blood but they could give a child otherwise with no one a chance of a loving family because Geralt knew despite his own emotionally stunted nature Jaskier would love any child whole-heartedly. He’d broached the idea with Jaskier and Jaskier had unsurprisingly agreed instantly.

Initially they had decided on adopting a baby, they’d gone to a foster home to discuss that exact thing when they’d met Ciri. Geralt had seen her first. He’d offered to get tea, leaving Jaskier and the social worker talking when he’d nearly ran into a 5 year old little girl with ash blonde hair. She’d been small, tiny for her age of only 6. But she hadn’t been scared of him, just glared at him as if daring him to say something. She’d reminded Geralt a lot of himself at that age.

He’d gone back to Jaskier and the social worker with thoughts of the blonde haired girl and before he knew what he was asking, he’d turned to the social worked and asked about the girl. It turned out her name was Ciri, her parents had died when she was 2 years old and she’d been raised by her Grandparents until a month ago when they had died in a car crash. She had no other family. By the end of hearing all this, Jaskier was in tears and Geralt’s mind was made up.

Ciri was moved into their home with 2 weeks.

At first Ciri had been quiet, reserved. Afraid almost of the two. Geralt didn’t know how he would have coped if Jaskier hadn’t been there. Jaskier hadn’t been perturbed at any point. No matter how Ciri screamed at them that they weren’t her parents, how she yelled for her Grandmother, or how she refused to speak to them for hours on end. Jaskier didn’t once flinch or falter. And slowly, so slowly, he wore the stubborn little girl down. When Geralt walked into the living room after a day of training, a month after Ciri came to them, to find Jaskier sitting on the couch, Ciri on his lap as he braided her hair and she talked a mile a minute about her favourite Disney movies; Geralt knew they’d made the right decision.

They were the perfect family in Geralt’s eyes. He and Jaskier and Ciri. His husband and daughter, Geralt loved them more than anything. Ciri had him wrapped around her little finger, taking lessons from Jaskier on how to make Geralt’s resolve crumple and get exactly what she wanted. Geralt had lost count the number of times he had thought he had stood firm only to end up still doing exactly what Ciri, and more often than not Jaskier, wanted to do.

He had worried when he’d had to leave the first time, fearing Jaskier wouldn’t be able to cope alone. Jaskier had assured him repeatedly that he would be fine with Ciri. They’d only had her a few months though so Geralt was understandably worried. For naught as it turned out. A month after leaving, Geralt had returned to find Jaskier and Ciri sitting on the floor of their living room, playing some sort of complicated game that only Ciri really knew the rules to. Ciri had jumped up instantly running into Geralt’s arms, grinning broadly. Geralt had held her tight and felt his heart fill with peace. And then Jaskier was next to him, arms wrapped tightly around Geralt as well and Geralt had known this was where he belonged. With his family.

Ciri was an instant hit with all their family. She had her Uncles wrapped around her finger, even Lamber cowing under the young girls demands. Eskel still had the pictures, despite threats of violence from Lambert, of when Ciri had sat and painted Lambert’s nails bright pink and dressed him in a fairy princess wings for a teddy bear tea party she’d invited him to. Triss was like an older sister to her and Ciri delighted in spending hours with Triss. Vesemir was for all intents and purposes Ciri’s Grandfather, spoiling the little girl rotten even if the elder man would never admit it.

The most surprising relationships however was Ciri’s relationship with Yennefer. Yennefer had always longed for a child of her own but due to a tragic accident when she was still a young girl before presenting as an alpha she was unable to have children. Ciri seemed to fill that hole though. Yennefer doted on the little girl and Ciri loved her as much as she loved Jaskier and Geralt.

It was all perfect in Geralt’s eyes and he didn’t believe it could get any better. And then it had.

7 years after adopting Ciri, 2 months after Ciri’s 14th birthday and presentation into an alpha, Geralt had received the shock of a life time. Jaskier had come down with some sort of sickness bug and Geralt had felt worry clenching his heart, especially when it didn’t just pass after a few days. So, much to Jaskier’s chagrin as he continued to insist he was fine, Geralt had dragged him to the Doctor’s.

Neither of them had been prepared to hear what the Doctor said was the cause of Jaskier’s sudden bout of sickness. How could they be? It was a chance in a million. A chance in a million Geralt had always refused to acknowledge lest he get his hopes up. But somehow it had happened. By some small tiny miracle, Jaskier was pregnant. Jaskier was pregnant.

So 6 months into Jaskier’s pregnancy it was hard, harder than anything else, for Geralt to leave Jaskier. But he still had a job to do and despite a bout of exhaustion that Jaskier had been recently plagued with and low blood sugar which the Doctor’s had assured them was perfectly normal this far into the pregnancy; Geralt hadn’t been worried.

……………..

“Geralt.” Geralt looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the military grade camp bed. The mission was finished, Geralt exhausted and ready to drop into much needed sleep before he got ready for de-briefing before being cleared to return home. Eskel, Lambert, Aidan, Letho and Aukes were already in various states of undress; all ready for the same thing; but at Vesemir’s only serious tone they all froze in their movements.

Geralt stood up to meet Vesemir’s gaze, mind going over every detail of their latest mission, wondering what he’d done wrong. “Sit down.” Vesemir spoke and Geralt’s heart clenched at the words and tone of Vesemir. Vesemir wasn’t a cruel man but he wasn’t one to coddle his men, so to hear the worry and pain in Vesemir’s voice made Geralt’s heart clench. What had happened?

“What’s wrong?” Geralt demanded, not moving to do as Vesemir said.

“A choppers waiting to take you to the airport. You’re needed at home.” Geralt sat on the bed, fear gripping him. What had happened? Was it Ciri? Jaskier? Fuck, no it couldn’t be Jaskier, or the baby. Could it? “I’m very sorry Geralt but Jaskier was taken in sick a few hours ago. Triss called, the Doctor’s said the placenta burst. There was nothing they could do. By the time they got to the hospital…” Vesemir paused, coughing past emotion in his throat as Geralt just stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry Geralt, the baby was already gone by the time they got there.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: description of still birth in this chapter please do NOT read if uncomfortable.

Jaskier missed Geralt. A lot. A serious fucking lot. When Geralt had said he was leaving for a few weeks, Jaskier had just entered his 24th week of his pregnancy and he needed his Geralt. He needed his Geralt there to hold him, to rub his stomach right where their baby was growing. Needed the silent warm comfort only Geralt could give him because Jaskier was terrified. So fucking scared, even more than when they’d first adopted Ciri. He was growing a baby inside him. A tiny little human being. A fucking baby. Fuck, he needed Geralt.

But this was Geralt’s job and Jaskier wouldn’t make Geralt stay, not when he knew it wasn’t fair to ask Geralt to stay. He’d known what he was getting into when he’d fallen for Geralt and however much he might miss his alpha when Geralt went away, he wouldn’t change it for the world. Not when he had Geralt, in all his brooding handsome, sweet, caring glory. No, he wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

Except now was different because he was pregnant. Pregnant with Geralt’s child and all Jaskier wanted was to curl up in Geralt’s arms and enjoy the warmth and comfort only Geralt could give him.

Jaskier groaned dramatically to himself from where he was sat on the couch, earning him a chuckle from Ciri. A head of ash blonde hair appeared in the doorway and Jaskier felt a swell of pride fill him as she passed him a large mug of tea before sitting on the couch next to him, stealing half of the blanket Jaskier had wrapped himself in. 

“Missing Dad?” Ciri asked and Jaskier blushed a little from his obvious he must have been for his 14 year old daughter to notice.

“Just a little.” Jaskier admitted and Ciri took his hand in hers and squeezed softly.

“Me too.” Jaskier chuckled at the way the roles had reversed. How often had he been the one to hold Ciri’s hand when she missed Geralt, and now she was doing it for him. “He’ll be back soon.” Ciri said, leaning into Jaskier’s side. Jaskier smiled, arm wrapping around her shoulder and holding her close. Since presenting as an alpha he natural woody scent had grown stronger and Jaskier felt pride fill him once more, tears stinging at his eyes. Fuck, this pregnancy was making him far too emotional (though no more than usual if Geralt was to be believed).

“Very true. The nursery might even be done by the time he gets back.” Jaskier joked, knowing full well it wouldn’t be. He barely had the energy to move around the house these last few weeks, let alone get into the nursery and try and put a crib together. Painting the nursery had been completely banned by Geralt who had said, rightly, that the paint was bad for the baby. Not that Jaskier hadn’t grumbled about not being able to help.

“That’ll be a miracle. At this rate it won’t be done til the baby gets here.” Ciri added and Jaskier laughed.

“I hope not. The baby’s going to be stressful enough without worrying about finishing their room.” Jaskier’s hand came to settle on his stomach with a soft smile on his face. Their baby. 

“How long now?” Ciri asked, excitement colouring her voice and making Jaskier laugh.

“I’m only 6 months pregnant Ciri. We’ve still got some time yet.” Ciri pouted at that. Jaskier closed his eyes, rubbing his stomach and sighing softly. 6 months. He’d been part way through 5 months when Geralt had left and now he was 6 months. A familiar tint of worry flashed through him at the thought of Geralt not making it home but he quickly squashed it. He wouldn’t let himself think of that, not when Geralt had so much to come back to. Anyway, Eskel and Lambert had sworn to get him home safely to Jaskier and Jaskier didn’t trust anyone with Geralt more than them.

“We should probably get dinner ready for Triss and Yenn coming over.” Jaskier grinned as Ciri rolled her eyes.

“That’s hours away Papa and we’re only having pizza.”

“Homemade pizza.” Jaskier retorted, ruffling Ciri’s hair affectionately. “And I’ll have you know your Mother is more critical of my cooking than anyone ever has been.” When Ciri had first called Yennefer Mum when she was 8 years old, Jaskier had expected to feel overwhelming jealousy. He knew how close Yennefer and Ciri were and despite all these years he couldn’t help but feel inadequate at times compared to Yennefer. But instead all Jaskier had felt was overwhelming happiness. Ciri loved Yennefer and Yennefer loved Ciri and as far as Jaskier was concerned as long as Ciri was happy that was all that mattered.

“Only because you’re a terrible cook.” Jaskier guffawed at Ciri’s words, hand coming over his heart dramatically as Ciri giggled.

“It’s not my fault your Dad spoils me rotten.” Geralt was most definitely the provider in this relationship. Without him there to make sure they ate properly Jaskier would probably live off take-outs. Fuck, he did live off take-outs when Geralt wasn’t there. Until they’d gotten Ciri at least at which point Jaskier had learnt the basics of putting chicken nuggets and chips in the oven so Ciri could have a sort of healthy diet while Geralt was away. Even if processed food in Geralt’s opinion was the true devil.

“He spoils everyone rotten.” Ciri laughed.

“Don’t let him hear you say that. Wouldn’t want to ruin his brooding image would we.” They both laughed loudly at that, Jaskier’s hand once more coming to settle on his stomach. There was a slight ache there, making Jaskier shift a little but he didn’t worry. The Doctors had said discomfort was common at this stage of the pregnancy.

“Now, don’t you have homework to do?” Jaskier asked, earning him a glare from Ciri which had him laughing. “Go on, sooner you get it done sooner you can call Dara.” At Dara’s name, Ciri blushed a deep red and Jaskier chuckled. He remembered being that age, falling for his best friend at the time Priscilla. Ciri was just luck Geralt and Yennefer hadn’t caught on yet or the poor boy would be too terrified to go near Ciri again. God help Ciri’s partners when she did eventually start dating properly.

“Fine, but only if you promise not to move.” Ciri said and Jaskier rolled his eyes. Geralt thought he’d been subtle when he’d told Ciri to watch Jaskier while he was gone. He hadn’t been, not in the slightest. 

“I thought I was meant to be the adult in this situation.” Jaskier called after Ciri’s retreating figure.

“Mum says you’re not an adult, you’re an overgrown toddler.” Ciri retorted.

“I’ll have you know a toddler would never be able to pull off my fashion sense.” Jaskier retorted, leaving Ciri laughter floating back down the stairs.

Jaskier sighed, adjusting himself in the sofa once more, hand coming to rub at his stomach, smiling softly at the baby resting there. As he rubbed the spot, his mind ran over tunes and words slowly forming into full lyrics. He’d been hit with inspiration since becoming pregnant, his songs always filtering back to the baby. Lullabies he would sing to them. 

Pulling out his guitar and notebook, Jaskier bent over the instrument, fingers automatically coming to place as he let the music run through him. A smile was on his face and he imagined the baby in Geralt’s arms, Geralt gently rocking them back and forth as Jaskier sang their child to sleep.

So engrossed in the song, Jaskier was taken by surprise when a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. He dropped his guitar, to the floor for once uncaring that of his beloved instrument as his hands came to wrap protectively around his baby. A sharp pain ran through him again, body tensing as Jaskier gasped, bending over his stomach, tears fighting in his eyes.

Jaskier stood on shaky feet, pushing the panic slowly clawing at this heart down. It was nothing. Phantom contractions, he’d read somewhere that they happened sometimes, granted a lot later into the pregnancy but still, completely normal. Nothing to worry about, the baby was fine. They were fine.

The next wave of pain had Jaskier grabbing onto the back of the sofa to stop himself from falling over. He clenched his eyes shut, gasping through the pain as his abdomen seemed to contract painfully. When he opened them again he felt his heart stutter at the sight underneath his feet. A sob tore through Jaskier at he looked at the steadily forming trail of blood leaking down his thighs and staining the light blue of his pyjama pants.

His knees buckled, pain clenching his heart as he wrapped his arms around his bump. Fuck…no…no…this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t…it wasn’t…it wasn’t…the baby was fine…they had to be fine. They had to be.

……….

Ciri heard a wild sob, similar to that of a wild animal in pain echo through the house. “Ciri?” Dara’s voice echoed over the video call as Ciri sat on the bed, half frozen in fear at the noise coming from downstairs. His voice broke her out of her thoughts and without saying a word to Dara she tore from her room.

She found Jaskier knelt on the living room floor, arms circled protectively around his pregnant belly, blood dripping down his thighs, tears running down his face as he gasped in pain. “Papa?” Ciri’s voice was small as she spoke. She felt like she was 6 years old again, being told her Grandparents had died as Jaskier turned tear pain-filled blue eyes on her.

“Ciri.” Jaskier gasped, voice coming out in pained gasps. “I…I…need you to call…” Jaskier broke off, gasping in pain and bending double over his stomach as he sobbed in pain. “No…please fuck…no…please.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” Ciri breathed, panic clawing at her as she angrily shoved it aside. She’d promised Geralt she would watch Jaskier. She’d promised him. Her hands shook as she took the phone and dialled the numbers in. Tears slipped down her face but she refused to acknowledge them. Jaskier was still sobbing, head shaking back and forth as he hugged himself, hugged his unborn baby.

………….

Triss felt like her heart stopped when she pulled into Jaskier and Geralt’s driveway only to find an ambulance pulled up there. It’s bright blue flashing lights highlighted over Yennefer whose face had turned pale as Triss pulled the car to a stop. Both women paused for less than a second before they were tearing out of the car.

Fear gripped Triss as he mind played over what might have happened. Was it Ciri? Jaskier? The baby? Fuck, she hoped it wasn’t the baby. Yenenfer beat her to the door, pushing her way into the house only to freeze at the door to the living room.

Triss felt her stomach churn sickingly as she saw 2 paramedics surrounding Jaskier. Jaskier was pale, face scrunched in pain hands wrapped tightly around his stomach as the paramedics moved him into a stretcher. Blood stained the once white carpet. Triss found her gaze fixed to the bright red blood. Jaskier’s blood. Fuck, Jaskier was bleeding. Bleeding from where? Not the baby though, the baby had to be ok.

“Stay with Ciri.” Yennefer’s harsh words broke through Triss’ mind as the paramedics pushed past them, stretcher between them. Jaskier’s pale face filled with tears and too pale. Too, too pale.

Triss barely registered Yennefer stalk past her to follow the paramedics as Ciri’s hand suddenly wrapped around hers. She glanced down to the pale terrified look of Ciri. “Is Papa going to be ok?” Ciri had never sounded so young to Triss’ ears as she wrapped the girl in her arms. She didn’t answer the question, she didn’t know how to.

………

Yennefer kept an outward appearance of calm as she followed the paramedics into the hospital. Jaskier was unconscious, an oxygen mask placed over his face to help him breath. Yennefer hands were clenched in tight fists as they walked into the emergency rooms, watching with an outward calm as Jaskier was transferred from the stretcher onto the hospital bed even as her heart hammered in her chest.

His skin looked almost translucent on the bedding. The paramedics had cut away his pyjama’s in the ambulance, using bandages to stem the heavy bleeding as they murmured words that washed right over Yennefer’s head. She watched as Jaskier was hooked to an IV, for fluids she thinks is what the Doctor who had appeared a few moments ago said. An ultra sound is being brought in and Yennefer feels her heart hammer in her chest, outward calm wavering for a second as she finds her legs shake as if she’s about to collapse to the floor.

Except she can’t lose her calm. Geralt isn’t here, he should be but he isn’t. Jaskier needs her to be with him, needs her to keep focused in Geralt’s absence. She can’t lose her calm and control. Not yet. Not yet.

“Are you his alpha?” The Doctor asks. She supposes they’ve said their name but Yennefer honestly can’t remember what was said.

“No.” Yennefer replied, voice steady and unbreaking. “Geralt’s away for work.” The Doctor hums and might have said something more but Yennefer isn’t listening.

She drifts closer to Jaskier’s side, taking the omega’s cold hand in hers and letting her feet collapse into a hard plastic chair by Jaskier’s side. Jaskier’s breath fogs the oxygen mask as the Doctor lifts the hospital gown (when had they put that on Jaskier?). His pregnant belly is large, 6 months pregnant Yennefer distantly remembers as the Doctor places cool panels on Jaskier’s stomach.

Her eyes drift to where the Doctor’s gaze is focused on the ultra sound, panels moving across Jaskier’s belly in search of the baby. And then they find them, a tiny little baby. A figure Yennefer knows well from the ultrasound pictures Jaskier and Geralt had shown her. They’d been so proud, Jaskier’s gaze filled with love for that little picture. His baby. His tiny little baby.

The Doctor moved the panels again. A tear escapes Yennefer’s eyes as she squeezes Jaskier’s hand. The words “Placenta abruption.” “No heartbeat.” “There’s nothing we can do.” Filter through Yennefer’s hearing like smoke clouds. They don’t matter. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is the tiny baby in Jaskier’s belly. The tiny baby that has no heartbeat.

…………..

Jaskier woke groggily to the sound of voices overhead. His head felt like cottonwool as he was slowly dragged back into consciousness. He felt a bit like he was floating, his lower body felt numb. Fuck, his whole body felt numb. There was a heavy weight on his hand and as Jaskier opened his eyes sluggishly he expected to see Geralt sitting there but instead it was Yennefer. Yennefer who was silently crying.

Jaskier blinked, throat rasping and he frowned at the feeling of plastic on his face. His hand moved to come to cradle his stomach but Yennefer’s hold tightened, keeping his hand in place. The other hand was weighed down by…wires? Jaskier groaned, closing his head against the headache forming behind his eyelids.

“Jask?” Yennefer, her voice filled with pain and worry. Jaskier blinked up at her in confusion as her violet eyes looked at him, pain and sorrow filling them. “I’m so so sorry Jaskier.”

“What?” Jaskier groaned, trying to pull his hand from Yennefer but she kept her grip hard. His mind was sluggish but he thinks he distantly remembers pain. Pain and blood. Fuck. “The baby.” Jaskier startled, tearing his hand from Yennefer in her surprise.

He wraps a hand around his stomach, trying to feel his baby through the muscle there. “Jaskier, their gone. I’m so sorry, but their gone.” Yennefer was crying properly now, taking Jaskier’s hand in hers and squeezing it softly.

“No…their…their here.” Jaskier whispered, heart breaking into pieces as he looked down at his pregnant belly. At where his child was growing. His baby was in there. They were fine…weren’t they?

“No Jask,” Yennefer took Jaskier’s hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” She kept saying that but in Jaskier’s shocked state he couldn’t understand the words. “They’re gone. They’re gone.”

……………..

Jaskier didn’t believe Yennefer. He didn’t believe her when the Doctor came in and gave his condolences. He didn’t believe her when the Doctor showed him the ultrasound, where no heartbeat could be detected. He didn’t believe her when they were wheeling him into surgery. He didn’t believe her the whole way through the C-Section. He didn’t believe her the whole time he lay being stitched back up, never once hearing the sounds of a crying child. He clung to the feeble hope that they’d been wrong. That his baby was alive. That they were fine.

He lay in shocked silence as the world ran around him. Didn’t say a word while the Doctor’s discussed the C-Section. Didn’t say a word as they walked him through what would happen. His baby was ok, they were fine. They just needed to come out a little sooner than expected. That was all. Babies survived being born early all the time. His baby would be fined. They were fine.

Jaskier didn’t believe Yennefer or the Doctor’s or the nurses or his own heart telling him they were right until the moment he was handed his baby. Yennefer was in the room with him, in place of Geralt who wouldn’t be back yet for another week. Geralt who Jaskier needed, he needed him. They sat him up, Jaskier shaking because he knew, he didn’t believe but he knew.

And then they asked if he wanted to hold his child, a little girl, and Jaskier had nodded. He’d held out shaking arms as a tiny tiny baby was placed into his arms. A tiny, cold, pale baby. His daughter. So small. White blonde hair, just like Geralt. Eyes a colour Jaskier would never know because they never opened. She was so small. Tiny, she’d fit comfortable in one arm. So light. Light and tiny. And pale and limp. Stiff.

Jaskier had no idea how long he held his daughter for before she was taken from him. And as she was lifted gently from his arms the spell that had bewitched Jaskier since he’d first woken up broke.

A wild keening noise filled the air as Jaskier crumpled, curling inwards, wrapping arms around his still protruding belly as he sobbed and shook and shouted in pain. His heart felt like it had been stabbed, like it was shattered into a million pieces.

Blackness ran at the edges of his vision as Jaskier sobbed and keened in the most acute pain he had ever felt. As the blackness finally claimed him, his last thought was how was he going to tell Geralt?


	3. Chapter 3

32 hours later. 32 fucking hours later and Geralt was finally, finally walking into the hospital. Vesemir had tried, he’d gotten Geralt the earliest flight back that he could but it hadn’t been soon enough for Geralt as he’d paced the airport. He’d been given a wide birth by most of the other airport customers and staff. The only reason he’d probably not been stopped by airport security was the army issue combat pants, black boots and shirt he was still wearing.

Fuck, it had taken to long. And then they’d been delayed. 2 hours sitting on the fucking place, on the fucking tarmac waiting. Geralt would have felt bad for the poor woman forced to sit next to him that whole time, and then the 6 hour fucking flight back to Jaskier. Jaskier who was in the hospital, who had just lost their baby.

Fuck, Geralt had been a coiled wire the whole wait. At least in the airport he’d been able to pace, been able to relieve the frantic manic panic running through him at least a little. On the plane…fuck, all he could do was sit there glaring at the seat in front as if that had been the cause of Jaskier losing the baby.

Fuck, he couldn’t take the waiting. He knew he should try and sleep. Jaskier needed him rested, ready, alert. Jaskier needed…fuck Jaskier needed him there, not thousands of miles away. Jaskier shouldn’t have to be dealing with this alone. Geralt should be there. He should be there. Why the fuck wasn’t he there? Because his job was more important than Jaskier, than his family; the spiteful part of his mind answered. Hadn’t Yennefer always said throughout their relationship that Geralt had never been there for her, she was right he hadn’t. And then he’d never been there for Jaskier either, or Ciri. He was always away at work, Jaskier left to deal with everything alone. And the one time he needed Geralt there, the one fucking time. 

Fuck, Jaskier was pregnant. He was fucking pregnant and Geralt should have stayed. This time above all other times he should have been there, should have told Vesemir no. He’d have understood, they all would have. Jaskier was their family as much as Geralt, they wouldn’t have argued if Geralt had said no, that he wouldn’t leave Jaskier not until the baby was here. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t even considered saying no and now…now, fuck…now Jaskier had lost the baby. And Geralt wasn’t there.

When the plane finally landed, Geralt had been on his feet in an instant. Not caring of the shouts of annoyance from the other passengers, Geralt had barged past them all, desperation flooding him. Jaskier wouldn’t take this well, Geralt knew that for a certainty. Jaskier loved to deeply, cared to deeply; fuck Jaskier would be distraught. This was his child, a child he’d carried for 6 months, a child he had loved from the second the Doctor told them he was pregnant. And now Jaskier had that child and was dealing with this alone. Fuck, Geralt needed to get to him. Now.

Geralt almost lost it when he saw the queue at the arrivals desk. He had to physically stop himself from punching something in anger, remaining himself that that would only slow him down. By the time he got to the front of the queue, his nerves were frayed. The man at the desk took one look at Geralt’s passport, then Geralt before paling significantly and stuttering for him to go through. Geralt didn’t care, one thought running through him. Get to Jaskier, Jaskier needed him, get to him.

Eskel had said he would take Geralt’s things back with him and Geralt had never been so grateful to anyone before. With only his phone, passport and wallet to worry about Geralt flew past the baggage reclaim straight onto the street. He saw a young couple wave down a taxi and Geralt shoved past them, knowing Jaskier would yell at him for being so rude but Jaskier wasn’t here. He was in a hospital, having lost their baby. Spurred on by that thought Geralt ignored the shouts of anger as he growled at the taxi driver to take him to the hospital Jaskier was at.

And then finally, finally after 32 hours from hearing the news; the taxi was pulling up outside the hospital. Geralt threw the money at the driver, not bothering to wait for his change as he launched himself out of the door and towards the hospital entrance. He got as through to reception, eyes scanning the room frantically before landing on Yennefer.

She looked haggard. Hair a mess of knots as if she’d been running her hands through it. Black circles under her eyes, violet eyes ringed red from crying. Her clothes, usually so carefully pressed were creased as if she’d been slept in them. And seeing Yennefer, who was always coif and unphased by anything looking so distraught was the first thing since Vesemir had said those words 32 hours ago, to have Geralt stop. All of the manic, adrenalin fuelled energy drained from him and he might have sagged to the floor then but he forced himself to stay upright. He couldn’t collapse, Jaskier needed him.

“How is he?” Geralt growled. Yennefer didn’t answer, instead took his hand and squeezing it softly. “Yenn, please.” Geralt whispered, voice almost breaking. He needed to know. He needed to know.

“He’s…he’s not good Geralt.” Yennefer’s voice was rough. “Triss and Ciri are with him.” Fuck, Ciri. In all of this Geralt hadn’t once thought about how this was affecting their daughter. Ciri would have been there, fuck Ciri would have been in the house when it happened. 

“Ciri, is she…” Geralt started but trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

“She was the one who called the ambulance.” Yennefer replied and Geralt swore, anger filling him as he clenching his fists. He should have been there. Ciri shouldn’t have had to deal with this. Fuck, Geralt should have been there. “The Doctor wants to talk to you.” Geralt nodded. The overwhelming need to see Jaskier warring with the knowledge he needed to hear what the Doctor said first. “He’s sleeping right now.” Yennefer added and Geralt grunted. Doctor first, then Jaskier.

……………

Doctor Regis shook Geralt’s hand when he entered, motioning to a seat opposite his desk. Geralt growled in annoyance but Yennefer pulled him towards the seat, making him sit anyway. Geralt glared at the Doctor, anger flooding him. He just wanted to see Jaskier. He just wanted to make sure his Jaskier was ok. 

“Mr Rivia, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Regis started. Geralt just growled, heart clenching painfully as he shoved aside the emotion. He couldn’t be emotional, Jaskier needed him. Jaskier needed him.

“What happened?” Geralt growled. Now he was here he wished he’d listened to what Vesemir had said before storming off the base. Wished he knew how Jaskier had lost their baby, how this had happened.

Yennefer took Geralt’s hand, squeezing softly but Geralt ignored her. He didn’t need comfort, Jaskier need comfort not him. “Jaskier suffered a placenta abruption.”

“What is that?” Great growled, irrational anger flooding into his voice. Jaskier would have calmed him down by now, he always did but Jaskier wasn’t here and this talking…fuck, this talking was keeping Geralt from seeing his Jaskier. His Jaskier who needed him.   
“It means the placenta separated from the womb.” Regis hesitated for a moment before continuing. “It cut off the baby’s supply to oxygen and ....”

“They suffocated.” Geralt interrupted, choking on the words. His baby had suffocated. His baby had died…fuck, his baby had died.

Yennefer squeezed Geralt’s hand softly, tears slipping down her own face now. “Not exactly, but…without the placenta the baby’s wouldn’t have received the oxygen and nutrients they need to survive.”

“And Jaskier?” Geralt forced himself to ask. Fuck, Jaskier had had to deal with all of this on his own. Fuck.

“We’re keeping him sedated.” Regis said, making Geralt’s heart stutter as he glared at the Doctor to elaborate. “He didn’t take the news well. We thought it would be best…”

“To keep him sedated.” Geralt finished, anger growing inside him. “To stop him from resisting whatever fucking treatment you decided to give him.”

“Geralt, it was the right thing to do.” Yennefer said and Geralt turned on her, snarling in anger.

“You let them do that to Jaskier. He just lost his fucking baby Yenn, they have no right…” 

“Jaskier was distraught.” Yennefer shot back, anger colouring her tone before she dropped her head into her hands in something that would have been defeat on any other person. “Geralt, you didn’t see him. Jaskier…he…he broke. It was the only way to stop him from hurting himself, to let his body recover.”

Geralt didn’t think his heart could break anymore but hearing Yennefer talk it did. Jaskier shouldn’t be broken. He shouldn’t be in so much pain they’d had to sedate him. Fuck, Geralt should have been there. He should have been there. “I need to see him.” Geralt whispered.

Regis and Yennefer exchanged looks over Geralt’s head, which he had dropped into his hands at Yennefer’s words. Thankfully neither argued, Yennefer taking a hold of Geralt’s arm and gently pulling him to his feet.

Jaskier’s was in his own room and as Geralt and Yennefer walked down the corridor, Ciri ran outside. Geralt barely registered her being there before she was flying at him, wrapping arms around his body and sobbing into his shirt. “I’m so sorry Dad. I tried, I tried to look after Papa but I didn’t know what to do.” Ciri sobbed.

Geralt placed a gentle hand on her hair, wishing Jaskier was here right now. He’d always been better at offering comfort, but Jaskier wasn’t here. If he was then Ciri wouldn’t need comforting. “You did everything you could.” Geralt growled, knowing he had to say something to comfort Ciri. “No one blames you.” Ciri sobbed harder into Geralt’s shirt until Yennefer gently placed a hand on the girls shoulder and pulling her into her own arms. Ciri went willingly, still crying as she hugged Yennefer fiercely.

“I’ve got her. Jaskier needs you.” Yennefer said as if Geralt needed reminding. Jaskier had needed him 32 hours ago…fuck, Jaskier had needed him to be there, Ciri had needed him to be there. He’d failed them both. Jaskier and Ciri, and their lost baby. Fuck.

Triss exited the room as Geralt got to the door. She gave him a sad smile, squeezing his shoulder softly before walking back to where Ciri and Yennefer were. As she moved away, she gave Geralt a view fully into the room. 

It was like most hospital rooms. White, smelling slightly of bleach and cleaning supplies. A white hospital bed sat in the middle of the floor, an IV drip on the right hand side, a hard plastic chair situated on the left. And on the bed, making him look smaller than he had ever looked, was Jaskier.

Jaskier looked…fuck, he looked so fragile. His eyes were closed but there was no rest on Jaskier’s features. His eyes were ringed black, slightly red as if Jaskier had been rubbing at his eyes…or from tears. He was pale, as pale as the hospital sheets he was lying under. His right hand was connected to the IV drip, feeding him the sedatives the Doctor had mentioned. His left hand was held palm up and without thinking Geralt took hold of that hand, squeezing it gently, afraid if he held to tightly he’d hurt Jaskier.

Geralt felt his legs give as he sank into the hard chair, hand holding onto Jaskier like a lifeline as the whole room span around him. Unbid, his eyes travelled to Jaskier’s belly. Fuck, he still looked pregnant. Still as large and beautiful as it had been when he’d held a baby there, but now his belly was empty. Fuck…it hurt just to look at, knowing what had been there.

Tears dripped down Geralt’s face and for the first time in 32 hours Geralt let them fall. He could allow himself this moment of weakness. He could allow himself this moment to let the tears to fall for his lost child.

………..

Jaskier woke groggily. His mind pushing aside the blackness that felt like treacle as it tried to push Jaskier back down into unconsciousness. His whole body felt numb and heavy. So, so heavy, and distant. It was like his body was in one place and his mind somewhere else. He was just so tired. The blackness was calling him, an alluring sound that promised Jaskier a few more hours of peaceful bliss, away from all his worries and problems. Away from the sadness and sorrow and heart-wrenching pain…

…pain? Why was there pain? Except…no…no, Jaskier tried to pull himself back towards the blackness but the memory had already been pushed to the forefront of Jaskier’s mind, pulling him back into agonising reality. The memory of his cold dead daughter in his arms. White hair, so like Geralt’s. Eyes forever closed. Tiny, perfect…so, so cold. 

No, no, no…he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to remember. He couldn’t remember. Please, don’t let it be real. Please let it just be a dream. A horrible, horrible nightmare that he would wake from. Geralt’s strong arms around him, hand cradling over Jaskier’s belly where his daughter still was, alive, safe.

A sob tore through Jaskier as pain laced through his heart. His body reacted on instinct, curling tightly around himself, around the bump still visible. Tormenting him with what he’d lost. Another sob tore through him as his shoulders shook, curling tighter into a smaller ball, wishing for the pain to stop. Just please make it stop, please.

And then strong arms were wrapping around him, pulling him back. The scent of spice filling Jaskier’s nostrils as he was pressed into something warm and solid and safe. A hand running through Jaskier’s hair, a deep growling timbre speaking into his ear. He couldn’t make out the words, his mind to fogged in pain and memories of his daughter in his arms to let him make out the words but he knew the voice. He knew the person holding him.

Geralt. Geralt was here. Geralt was here. Jaskier sobbed again, heart breaking as he realised Geralt must know. Geralt knew Jaskier had lost their baby. Jaskier had lost their baby. Geralt must hate him. A sob tore through him, making him gasp breathless. It hurt, it hurt so much. All of it, it was to much. Too much.

……….

“No.” Geralt growled in anger at the nurse who was about to inject the IV with something to sedate Jaskier. Jaskier was sobbing hysterically in Geralt’s arms, body curled tight and small, back pressed against Geralt’s chest. Geralt ran a hand through Jaskier’s hair, trying to soothe his mate but only making Jaskier sob harder.

“He’d going to hurt himself.” The nurse said, voice almost bored and Geralt would have failed in reigning in his anger if not for Jaskier falling apart in his arms.

“I’ll calm him down.” Geralt growled, daring the nurse to tell him no.

“5 minutes, then I’ll have to sedate him.” She said, leaving the room and Geralt almost sagged in relief except Jaskier was still falling apart in his arms.

“Jask, it’s ok, you’re ok.” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier sobbed harder, body shaking violently in Geralt’s arms. Geralt forced back the emotion clogging his throat as he searched for the right words. Fuck, Jaskier was the talker in their relationship, not him.

“Please Jask. You need to calm down, you’re hurting yourself.” Geralt whispered, pressing a kiss into Jaskier’s hair as Jaskier seemed to keen in pain. Fuck, that noise…fuck, no one should feel that much pain to make that noise. “Please Jask, for me. Please.” Geralt’s voice broke, panic flooding him. Yennefer had been right to sedate him. Geralt couldn’t do this, he didn’t know how to stop Jaskier’s pain. Fuck, he was barely holding in his own. 

“I’m…sorry…fuck…I’m…sorry…please…I’m…sorry…so…so…sorry.” Jaskier sobbed, voice hoarse and broken as he continued to sob brokenly. “She’s gone…she’s gone…please…please…”

“A girl.” Geralt whispered, heart hammering in his chest. No one had told him their baby had been a girl, a tiny little daughter. Jaskier sobbed again and Geralt cursed himself, gently rubbing soothing circles in Jaskier’s hair.

“I lost her…I lost our little…no…I’m sorry.” Jaskier sobbed.

“No, Jaskier listen to me.” Geralt growled, pain flooding inside him. Fuck, Jaskier was blaming himself. Jaskier thought he’d lost their daughter. “This wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Jaskier. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“I lost her Geralt.” Jaskier sobbed, body curling tighter together as he tried to pull away from Geralt. 

Geralt growled, tightening his hold around Jaskier’s body, pulling him so Jaskier was flush against his back. “Listen to me Jaskier. This was not your fault.” Geralt growled, needing Jaskier to believe him. “This was not your fault so please don’t blame yourself. Please.”

Jaskier lifted his head hesitantly to look at Geralt. The pain and agony written their had Geralt angrily pushing back his own tears. Jaskier’s bright blue eyes had turned a stormy grey, tears streaming down his face. “She had blonde hair.” Jaskier choked. “She was so tiny. Fuck, Geralt she was so tiny.”

Geralt growled, emotion clogging the words in his throat as he turned Jaskier on the bed, careful of the IV still hooked to him. Jaskier was limp in his arms, allowing Geralt to pull him to his chest with no fuss. “They let me hold her.” Jaskier whispered, face burying into Geralt’s chest. Geralt tightened his arms around Jaskier, holding his omega close, protected from the rest of the world. “She was so tiny.”

Geralt didn’t answer. He couldn’t. All he could do as hold Jaskier close as Jaskier cried his heartbreak into Geralt’s chest. His own tears forced away because he couldn’t cry, not when Jaskier was so distraught. Jaskier needed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier had been asleep nearly 12 hours before he finally stirred. Curled tightly in Geralt’s arms, head rested on Geralt’s chest. It should have left Geralt with a sense of peace around him, having Jaskier in his arms always did, but not this time. No, this time all Geralt could think about was why Jaskier was curled so tightly in his arms. 

He looked so fragile, fragile and tiny, vulnerable. Three words Geralt had never associated with Jaskier. His Jaskier wasn’t fragile or tiny or vulnerable; his Jaskier was strong and vibrant and loud. Not this, never this. Fuck, Jaskier was the strong one in their relationship, he had to be strong to deal with all the times Geralt wasn’t there. Jaskier wasn’t vulnerable. Except he was now, so vulnerable and so fucking fragile in Geralt’s arms it broke his heart just looking at him.

The nurses that had come in while Jaskier had been asleep to check his mates vitals had all looked at him displeased. Geralt wasn’t a small man and he would have dwarfed the small hospital bed if he was in it alone. Sitting in it with Jaskier curled next to him, well it left very little room for manoeuvring. Not that Geralt had any intentions of moving, no Jaskier needed him and Geralt wasn’t leaving him. Thankfully Doctor Regis had nodded his head at Geralt when he’d come to check on Jaskier, giving silent approval of the large alpha sitting in the bed holding his mate. Geralt supposed if the proximity kept Jaskier calm then there wasn’t a problem.

Jaskier shifted against Geralt, curling himself tighter if that was possible in Geralt’s arms. Geralt stiffened, forcing down the panic as he listened to Jaskier’s breathing change to the tune it always did when he started to wake up. He pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s head, tightening his arms around his mate as he hoped to everything out there that Jaskier wouldn’t wake as panicked as he had before.

Destiny must have listened as Jaskier, while groggy, woke calmly and without the hysterics he had before. Geralt watched as Jaskier’s arms moved to hold his belly, minute trembles rocking through his fingers as Jaskier buried his head into Geralt’s chest. Geralt forced back tears as his mind went unbid to the multiple mornings they’d woken in their shared bed. Jaskier always wound his way around Geralt in the night, even if they started on opposite sides of the bed which was a rare occurrence nowadays. Jaskier always woke, blinking groggily at Geralt, a loving smile on his face as he hugged himself closer to Geralt. Since the pregnancy, Jaskier had woken with a beaming smile for the child inside him, cradling his belly, running hands softly over the bump as Geralt settled his hands on top of Jaskier’s; both marvelling at their miracle.

Today Geralt settled his hands on top of Jaskier’s trembling ones, offering his mate silent comfort as Jaskier trembled in his grip. His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for the tears of pain to fall from Jaskier but instead Jaskier remained still apart from the trembling. Geralt didn’t say a word, didn’t move afraid if he did the spell would be broken and Jaskier would desolve into tear pain-filled sobs.

After a while, nearly half an hour Geralt had counted, Jaskier lifted his head from where it had been buried in Geralt’s chest. His eyes were s tormy grey, devoid of the colour and brightness they usually were. Geralt forced the lump in his throat down as Jaskier started to speak. “Can I see Ciri?” Jaskier’s voice was croaky from disuse and all the crying he’d been doing.

Geralt hummed, kissing Jaskier’s hair softly before gently pulling himself from Jaskier’s grip. He didn’t want to, wanted to stay with Jaskier in his arms as long as possible but he wouldn’t deny Jaskier a single thing he asked for. Not now. “I’ll go get her now.” Geralt promised, bending to kiss Jaskier’s lips softly.

……….

Ciri bolted to her feet as Geralt walked into the waiting room heart hammering. Why had her Dad left Papa? Was Papa ok? Had something happened? Panic clawed at her throat as she saw the pain in Geralt’s amber eyes. “Is Papa ok?” She demanded the second Geralt was in earshot.

Geralt looked at Ciri, face a mask hiding his emotions. Ciri hated when he did this. Papa held his heart on his sleeves, you always knew what Jaskier was thinking or feeling just by looking at it; Geralt on the other hand, her Dad was almost as good as Yennefer at hiding her emotions. And Ciri hated it.

“He wants to see you.” Geralt said and Ciri felt her heart hammer in her chest. She’d been in Jaskier’s hospital room as often as she could before Geralt got here, refusing to leave her Papa in case something happened while she was gone. But in all that time Jaskier had never acknowledged her, he hadn’t acknowledged any of them. Ciri couldn’t blame him, her Papa had just lost a child, but it still tore at her heart to see him awake and not even see her.

Ciri didn’t wait for Geralt to continue speaking, even though she saw he wanted to as she stalked past him. She saw her Mum and Dad exchange glances behind her back but she ignored them both. Her Papa had asked for her and she needed him, she needed to see he was ok.

But…she was scared, more scared than she’d been since first being told Jaskier and Geralt were adopting her and she’d been terrified then. Two strange men who were now her family, she’d hated them, wanted nothing to do with either of them. But Geralt and Jaskier hadn’t let her anger deter them. They hadn’t sent Ciri back to foster care like the other families that had tried to adopt or foster her after her Grandparents deaths. No, they’d kept her and they’d loved her. Slowly, so so slowly they’d warn down her defences and Ciri had felt herself loving them both. They were her family and they were always there for her. Jaskier more than Geralt at times but only because he didn’t have to leave so often for work.

Ciri would never say she loved her Pap more than her Dad but she’d always found it easier to talk to her Papa. Most likely because Jaskier was always there, he never went away. She knew that Jaskier had turned down a few gigs he’d been offered out of town so he didn’t have to leave her. Ciri knew Jaskier didn’t know she knew about those offers and she also knew Geralt had no idea Jaskier had been offered them let alone that he’d turned them down. She herself had only found out because she’d overheard him on the phone one night when Geralt had been away from work. A spiteful part her mind had wondered why Jaskier could turn away work that would make him leave home but Geralt couldn’t, but she’d long since learnt to ignore that voice. Jaskier had explained it more than a few times when she was younger. Geralt left to help people, he was a hero. 

A hero that should have been here with Jaskier, not thousands of miles away, Ciri thought as she paused at Jaskier’s door. She felt her heart hammer in fear as she looked at the closed door, afraid of what she’d see. Jaskier had always been a vibrant and loud presence in her life. Optimistic to a flaw some would say but since he’d lost the baby…Ciri had never known someone could feel that much pain.

The first time Jaskier had woken up, a few hours after the C section when they were all still raw with grief over what had happened, Ciri had been terrified. She’d been sitting holding her Papa’s hands, Triss on the other side of Jaskier and Yennefer leaning against a wall when he’d woken up. Ciri had felt relief at seeing Jaskier wake only to have it all crashing down as Jaskier, completely oblivious to the people in the room had broken. He’d literally broken. Ciri hadn’t thought it was possible to see someone break but she’d seen Papa do exactly that. The sobbing, keening noises coming from him…it had broken her heart and she’d run from the room in horror, tears streaming down her own face.

She’d ended up outside the hospital, on her knees crying painful sobs at what she’d seen. And all she’d wanted was her Papa to hold her and tell her it was all ok just like he always had whenever Ciri was hurting. Except he wasn’t here and neither was her Dad. Her Dad wasn’t there to comfort her or to comfort Jaskier. They needed him to be here and he wasn’t. Yennefer had found her a few minutes later, not saying a word as she hugged her adopted daughter tightly in her arms. She didn’t say everything was alright and for once Ciri was eternally grateful for her Mum’s blunt honesty. It couldn’t be alright, not when her Papa was so broken.

Geralt’s hand hesitantly wrapping in Ciri’s own brought her out of her thoughts. She looked at him, Geralt’s gaze focused on the door to Jaskier’s room as he squeezed her hand re-assuredly. Ciri thought back to the hundreds of times she and Jaskier had stood at the airport, hand and in hand watching Geralt leave. She remembered 3 weeks ago, standing their with a still pregnant Jaskier. Her Papa had hid it well but she knew Geralt’s leaving this time had been harder than ever. 

“You should have been there.” Ciri whispered, knowing Jaskier wouldn’t be pleased with what she’d just said to Geralt but also not caring. She was hurting, Papa was broken. Geralt deserved to feel guilty. They’d needed him.

……….

Geralt felt guilt flood him as Ciri dropped his hand and walked into the hospital room. Ciri was right, he should have been there. He watched as Ciri walked hesitantly into the room before seeming to collect herself and walk with al the grace and confidence of Yennefer to Jaskier’s bedside. That was Yennefer and Jaskier’s doing, not his. They’d raised Ciri into the kind, caring, confident girl she was today; not Geralt. Geralt hadn’t been there enough, he’d always known it but to hear Ciri say those words, they were a like a gut punch for every time Geralt had left her and Jaskier despite knowing how much they needed him there.

“Papa?” Cir’s voice wavered slightly but she held herself strong and confident as she stood at Jaskier’s bedside.

“Ciri, dear heart.” Jaskier said, voice cracking with emotion as he gave her a watery smile. “Come here.” He said and Geralt watched with more guilt flooding him every second as Ciri flung her arms around Jaskier, sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s ok dear heart, I’m here. It’s ok.”

Fuck, Jaskier was comforting Ciri. Jaskier who was in pain, who’d just had a fucking miscarriage had spotted what Geralt had failed to see. Jaskier had seen Ciri’s pain, the pain she knew to well how to hide from her early childhood loss, and was comforting her. Fuck, Geralt hadn’t even thought how Ciri would be taking this. She’d just lost her unborn sister. She’d had to look after Jaskier when he hadn’t been there, she’d been the one to call the fucking ambulance. She’d been there when Jaskier…when he lost the baby.

Fuck.

Geralt was blinded by his own incompetence, heart hammering painfully as he stumbled from the hospital room. He should have been there. He should have always been there. He should have never left them. All the pain and worry and fear Geralt had felt as he travelled home, fuck Jaskier must have felt that all the time when Geralt had left. Ciri must have felt that all the time. And Geralt had never noticed, he’d never thought how his leaving affected his family. He was selfish. He didn’t deserve them.

They’d needed him and he wasn’t there.

………..

Yennefer saw Geralt stumble down the corridor and into the mends bathroom with a frown on her face. “Don’t.” Triss put a hand on Yennefer’s shoulder to stop her from moving but she shook her friends hand off. “He’s hurting Yenn.” Triss said, voice pleading as Yennefer stood up, violet eyes burning.

“We all are.” Yennefer growled, stalking the length of the corridor. She could feel the anger flooding her as she pushed open the men’s toilet, uncaring of the yell of surprise from one of the occupants. She just growled at him, leaving the stranger gulping a little and racing out of the bathroom quickly.

“Don’t Yenn.” Geralt growled. He had his head pressed against the mirror, pain and guilt warring inside of him. His eyes were closed, tears burning at his vision as he felt more than saw the icy glare Yennefer was giving him.

“You are a selfish bastard, do you know that?” Yennefer glared at him, her voice icy in tony but no less angry. Geralt knew that tone well, had heard it so many times in their relationship. “You leave them, all the time. You never even think about how they feel, what they must be feeling and the one time, the one fucking time they needed you here and you weren’t here. You couldn’t even stay for your baby, your baby.”

“I fucking know.” Geralt shouted, turning to face Yennefer’s ice cold glare. “You don’t think I feel guilty enough.”

“I don’t care what you feel.” Yennefer glared back. “I don’t care what Geralt Rivia thinks or feels because you,” she followed the word with a sharp point of her finger at his chest, “weren’t the one to lose your child. Jaskier was. Jaskier lost his baby. His baby while you were away working, like you always are. And if that wasn’t the worst of it, Ciri saw it happen. Ciri who had lost so much, seen to many horror’s had to be the one to call the ambulance because you,” she landed her hand on Geralt’s chest and shoved him against the wall, “weren’t there.”

“I know.” Geralt whispered, sagging against the wall. “I know.”

“Then why aren’t you there.” Yennefer retorted, still seething anger as she looked at Geralt.

“It hurts Yenn.” Geralt whispered and Yennefer pushed aside the guilt she felt for confronting Geralt like this. Geralt had lost his child, yes but Yennefer was dealing with 7 years of bottled up rage to give two shits how Geralt felt. She’d been there as Jaskier had struggled those first few years with Ciri. Seen Jaskier struggle with Ciri’s reactions to Geralt leaving, struggle with her general anger and pain from losing her family and being given to a new one. Jaskier had struggled with getting Ciri to school when the girl was bullied for having 2 Fathers, none of which were her biological parent. Yennefer had seen Jaskier break down in tears while Ciri was asleep, sobbing as he told Yennefer he didn’t know how to cope, didn’t know what he was meant to do. Yennefer had been the one to comfort him, to tell him he was doing the right things, to reassure him. Yennefer had had to do Geralt’s job because Geralt was never there. And she was angry, she was more fucking angry than she ever had been because this, this was the last fucking straw. And Geralt needed to know that, Geralt needed to see what he’d spent years pretending wasn’t true. He needed to see the pain he’d caused.

“It’s 10 times worse for Jaskier.” Yennefer snarled, seeing Geralt wince and not caring. “10 times worse for Ciri. You didn’t see Jaskier lose the baby. You didn’t feel the baby dying inside you. You weren’t there when the Doctor’s told Jaskier he lost his baby.” You didn’t see Jaskier hold his dead daughter in his arms, didn’t see Jaskier break in a thousand pieces as he realised what he’d lost; Yennefer had. And she never wanted to see anyone in that much pain again. “I don’t care what you feel or think. Jaskier and Ciri need you to be strong. For once in your fucking life, they need you to be there for them. Do not fucking leave them.”

Yennefer glared at Geralt, her silent threat hanging in the air. If Geralt left them, if he hurt them, if he so much as considered leaving for his job while Jaskier and Ciri needed him; Yennefer honestly couldn’t say what she’d do but she knew it would be pretty.

…………

Jaskier buried his face in Ciri’s hair, holding back the pain laced in his heart as he held her close, breathed in her scent. She’d stopped crying but she hadn’t made a move to let go of him and Jaskier was grateful. He didn’t want to let her go. He needed to hold her, needed the comfort of having his daughter wrapped in his arms. He needed to know he hadn’t lost everything. He still had Ciri. He’d lost his baby but he still had Ciri.

Silent tears tracked down his face, dripping in Ciri’s hair as the loss made his heart constrict painfully. It hurt. It would always hurt. But he had to be strong for Ciri. Ciri had lost so much she couldn’t lose him to his grief. As much as all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry and cry and cry he couldn’t. Not when Ciri needed him.

“Are you ok Papa?” Ciri asked, leaning back slightly. Jaskier felt his arms ache as she leant away from him. He should be holding his baby in those arms. His tiny, perfect little daughter. Jaskier stifled back a silent sob, wiping his eyes furiously as Ciri suddenly wrapped her arms around Jaskier fiercely. “It’s ok Papa. I’m here. I’ll look after you.”

“We both will.” Geralt’s gruff voice from the doorway had Jaskier lifting his tear stained face from Ciri’s hair.

“It hurts.” Jaskier whispered, emotion clogging his throat. Ciri hugged him more fiercely, her tears dripping onto Jaskier’s shoulder and leaving a wet patch there. Geralt appeared at his side, taking his hand in his and squeezing it softly.

“It’ll be ok Papa.” Ciri whispered into her shoulder. Jaskier rubbed his free hand over Ciri’s back, a soft smile appearing on his face despite everything.

“I love you.” Jaskier whispered, kissing her head softly before turning his eyes to meet Geralt’s. There were tears in Geralt’s amber eyes and he squeezed his mates hand softly. “I love both of you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jaskier felt lighter than he had since losing his child. The pain was still there but he felt…not better, by no means better, but lighter. He still had Ciri and he still had Geralt. They were his family and he loved them more than anything but there was still a bone deep loss buried deep inside him. He’d lost a part of himself, a part of himself and Geralt, a part that they would never see grow up, would never see laughing and playing with Ciri. A baby whose eyes Jaskier would never see open.

He forced the thought down inside him as he forced himself back to the conversation happening around him. Ciri was catching Geralt up on all the news he’d missed while he’d been away. Her face was lit up with the bright smile she always had when Geralt first came back from work, basking in the attention of her Dad as Jaskier sat next to them smiling softly. If her eyes weren’t as bright as usual though, no one commented.

Yennefer was leaning against the wall, violet eyes warm as she looked at Ciri. She had gone home to dress at some point, her hair styled to perfection and Jaskier thought she wouldn’t look to out of place on a fashion runway in Paris. Every now and then her eyes drifted to Geralt, a frown on her face that told of something deeper than Jaskier wanted to think about right now.

Triss was missing from the scene, she’d had a phone call from Vesemir to say he and the other Witchers were on their way back. She’d offered to pick them up from the airport and, though no one had told Jaskier specifically, give them a report on how Jaskier was doing. Secretly Jaskier was glad at least one person was getting out of the hospital. They all needed a break at home. He’d been trying to get Ciri to go home and at least shower at home rather than use the hospital facilities offered the family staying with their loved ones. She’d refused of course but Jaskier had at least tried. 

Geralt was sitting on Jaskier’s side, hand in Jaskier’s in a tight firm grip. He was watching Ciri intently, listening to every word but every now and again he would lift his eyes to Jaskier with a pained look on his face. It made Jaskier’s heart ache and he knew he needed to talk to Geralt alone soon. His alpha was always terrible with emotion and this…fuck they’d lost their child. Jaskier knew how much pain he was in and he could only imagine Geralt was in much the same amount of pain. And bottling it all up if Jaskier knew Geralt as well as he knew he did.

Geralt hadn’t even gotten to meet her, he would never hold their daughter in her arms. Dead or otherwise, Jaskier would forever hold that memory close in his heart. The weight of tiny child. So tiny. So small. So fragile and easily broken. His breath hitched and the room went silent, Ciri’s voice trailing off as Jaskier felt tears burn at his eyes. “Jask?” Geralt leant in close, running a hand through Jaskier’s hair to ground him, the other still holding tightly to Jaskier’s hand. 

Jaskier forced himself to focus on the feeling of mate, the feeling of his family surrounding him. “I’m ok.” Jaskier whispered, voice cracking with the emotion held inside.

“No you’re not.” Yennefer stated bluntly, eyes betraying the worry she felt where her tone did not.

“But that’s ok.” Geralt grunted, squeezing Jaskier’s hand softly.

Jaskier nodded, squeezing Geralt’s hand softly before turning back to Ciri and forcing a smile on his face. Ciri didn’t deserve to see him break like this. “How about you tell Dad about what you and Dara have been up to?” Jaskier felt his smile feel more real as he saw Yennefer and Geralt frown in unison at the name Dara.

“What have you and Dara been doing?” Geralt growled and Ciri rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Nothing Dad. We’re just friends.” Ciri replied only for Yennefer’s glare to grow.

“If you were just friends you wouldn’t need to remind us.” Jaskier chuckled at Yennefer and Geralt’s combined worry. He could almost pretend this was a normal day. Almost.

He leant back further into the bed, closing his eyes as he let the sounds of his family wash around him. As he leant back he became aware of all the parts of his body still pretending he was pregnant, still mocking him. He’d lost his baby and his body reminded him daily of what he’d lost. The Doctor had said it would take 6 to 8 weeks before his swollen belly fell back to its normal size. He could speed it up with exercise and the like but after the trauma of losing his daughter the Doctor had warned against any overly physical activities until he was fully recovered.

His breasts were also swollen, and tender. Very tender. Jaskier remembered when they’d first started to swell, remembered the look of lust in Geralt’s eyes and couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. Even pregnant Geralt had still found Jaskier attractive except now all his swollen breasts did was remind him of his unborn baby. His tiny fragile little girl. They hadn’t even named her. Fuck, she’d never even had a name. And she never would. The thought of bringing up options of names now, Jaskier couldn’t do it. His little girl deserved a name, deserved to have a name they could remember but the thought of discussing baby names with Geralt. It was too cruel, far too cruel to even consider.

As if sensing Jaskier’s thoughts, Geralt squeezed his hand gently, amber eyes blazing into Jaskier as he offered his mate silent comfort. Jaskier smiled softly at him. “You look tired Jaskier.” Yennefer pointed out.

“Sorry Papa, I didn’t mean to keep you from resting.” Ciri said, voice filled with guilt as Jaskier turned his gaze to look at Ciri.

“It’s ok Ciri. I’m glad you’re here. I…” Jaskier hesitated for a moment. Sensing his hesitation, Ciri picked up his hand and squeezed it softly. Jaskier couldn’t help but smile at his daughter as he continued. “It’ helps. All of this. It helps.”

“Good.” Ciri said, bringing her head over to kiss his on the cheek. Jaskier smiled, feeling more content than he had in days. Of course, that feeling couldn’t last. His traitorous body had to ruin the first moment of peace Jaskier had felt since losing his daughter mere moments after he felt it.

He felt the hospital grown sticking uncomfortably to his chest. It felt damp and his breasts were aching as if…fuck, no…no…no…no…his body couldn’t be doing this to him. It couldn’t be betraying him anymore than it already had. He still looked pregnant, he still felt the aches and pains from the c section and the pregnancy. And now this…no, it was too far. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

“Ciri out now.” Geralt’s rough voice tore through Jaskier’s inner pain but he couldn’t focus on it for too long, mind overtaken by his body’s betrayal. He distantly saw Yennefer usher Ciri out of the room, could hear his daughter crying. Could hear the phantom sound of his baby crying for milk. His milk. Milk he was producing naturally ready for his baby. Except…except his baby wasn’t here to feed.

A loud broken sob broken through the room and Jaskier knew it was him but he didn’t care. Geralt was saying something but Jaskier couldn’t hear him, all he knew was the pain in his heart as he stared down at his damp shirt. Twin wet patches were his breasts where. Lactating, he was lactating. He keened, body collapsing against the bed as tears ran down his cheeks. His body still thought his baby was here. His body was acting as if his baby was still here. 

Strong arms wrapped around Jaskier and he didn’t struggle as he was pressed into Geralt’s firm chest. The rocking motion Geralt was doing was meant to soothe but it did nothing but make Jaskier cry harder. Rocking, his baby should be in Geralt’s arms being gently rocked to sleep or gently rocked to calm their crying. His baby who was gone. They were gone.

He was dimly aware of other people in the room. There was a commotion, Geralt’s grip around him tightening but Jaskier just kept cobbing harshly, pain in his heart as he remembered his loss. His body betraying him with every drip of milk. His baby’s milk.

The voices filtered through his mind in pieces. “Sedation…we need to…he’ll hurt himself…” Geralt rocked him closer, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s head as Jaskier kept sobbing, breath coming out in panicked gasps. It hurt to breath past the pain in his heart. Everything hurt so much. His arms ached for his daughter. He needed her, he needed to hold his baby. Why couldn’t he just hold his baby? 

“Do it.” Geralt’s voice, defeated and broken tore through Jaskier’s mind. He couldn’t hold his baby, neither he or Geralt would ever get to hold their tiny little daughter in their arms because she was gone. She was gone and they would never see her again.

That thought was the last thing he remembered as blackness surrounded his vision. That and all encompassing numbness that settled around him. She was gone.

…………..

Geralt felt sick as Jaskier grew limp in his arms. Jaskier’s breaths evened out, body limp as unconsciousness claimed him. Geralt wouldn’t call it sleep, not when they’d had to sedate him. Fuck, Jaskier had been fine. He’d looked fine. He’d been smiling. Maybe a little tired but he’d been smiling and talking and…happy. And then, within seconds he’d broken. Broken right in front of Geralt and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Geralt could only be grateful that Yennefer had gotten Ciri out of the room when she had. Ciri didn’t need to see this. Jaskier wouldn’t want to upset Ciri by letting her see him break. And fuck, he had broken. It had been gut wrenching watching Jaskier sob and keen and break in his arms.

“What happened?” Regis asked, voice calm considering the circumstances. Geralt watched as the nurse who had administrated the injection walked from the room. He hadn’t wanted to sedate Jaskier but he hadn’t had a choice. He’d had no choice.

“I…I don’t know.” Geralt whispered. He still had Jaskier in his arms, Jaskier’s back pressed flush with Geralt’s chest. It couldn’t be comfortable for his mate, Jaskier’s head lolled on Geralt’s chest in a way that would leave him with a creaked neck if he stayed there too long. Geralt gently removed himself from the bed, lying Jaskier onto the mattress with as much care as possible. Jaskier’s face was lax but all Geralt could see was the heartbreak and pain in Jaskier’s face.

“May I?” Regis asked, motioning to Jaskier. Geralt nodded, stepping back as he watched Regis examine Jaskier. It wasn’t until Regis lifted Jaskier’s damp shirt that Geralt realised it wasn’t tears or sweat on Jaskier’s chest. His usually flat chest had swollen in the last month ready for the baby coming. It had been a boatful sight though Geralt knew it left Jaskier uncomfortable from the ache.

“He’s lactating.” Regis stated, voice flat. 

“Can you stop it?” Geralt asked. This wasn’t fair. Jaskier had lost his baby and now he was producing milk for his lost baby.

“I’m afraid not.” Regis sighed and Geralt felt his heart break again. “We can give him some medication for the pain and if the pain gets too bad we can look at a breast pump.” Geralt felt his heart seize as Regis spoke. “The milk should dry up in a few weeks.”

Geralt nodded, dropping his head into his palms as he felt tears burn down his face. He saw Regis leave the room out of the corner of his eye but he didn’t lift his head. “I’m so sorry Jask. I’m so fucking sorry.”


	6. Chapter 6

Triss could feel the tension in the car as she drove Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert to the hospital. She hadn’t been surprised to find the three of them, Aidan, Letho, Aukes and Coen all standing at the airport entrance bleeding tension. Dressed in their combat boots and all in black the 7 of them struck intimidating figures, all the other people in the airport giving them a wide birth.

When Triss had walked over, she could see the worry in their faces. Vesemir had been the first to see her, his stoic demeanour breaking for an instant as he bent down to hug her. Triss had melted into the hug, having to fight back tears as everything started to catch up with her. But she’d pushed them aside angrily. She could cry later. She’d cry at home, curled in her bed and mourn Jaskier’s baby then. But not yet. 

They’d all wanted to come to the hospital of course they did. Jaskier was like family to Geralt’s brothers. They had been there as much as she had been when they found out Jaskier was pregnant. Hell, Geralt’s brothers had been the ones to organise the baby shower which they’d been planning to throw a few weeks after Geralt got back. Except now all that careful planning was for nothing.

It didn’t matter that she and Lambert had almost come to blows trying to decide what theme Jaskier would prefer (she wanted an outdoor picnic while Lambert wanted to throw the baby shower in a bar which was just ridiculous). It didn’t matter that Eskel had spent weeks agonising over hat gift to buy the newborn baby before giving up and deciding to buy both (one a large teddy that would have been twice the size of the baby and a huge variety of baby clothes in every size and colour). Letho and Aukes had spent the week before being sent out grunting over party decorations while Coen had volunteered to sort out food and drink for the baby shower. Aidan of course had gone overboard and much to Lambert’s delight (who Triss was sure had had a part in planning Aidan’s contribution) had organised a huge firework display for the party.

Vesemir settled his hand on Triss’ shoulder as if sensing her mind rearing off into thoughts they shouldn’t be going to and squeezed softly. He was a hard, stoic man in a lot of ways; not unlike Geralt often thought, but Vesemir was also a soft and kind man as well. Triss knew how excited Vesemir had been to find out Jaskier was pregnant, Jaskier’s daughter would have been spoilt rotten by the old army officer. She would have been spoilt rotten by them all.

“We don’t want to overwhelm him just yet.” Vesemir had taken charge of the situation as they stood outside the airport pick up point. “Lambert and Eskel can come. We’ll keep you informed of what’s going and when Jaskier is ready the rest of you can visit.” Triss sighed a breath of relief as the others immediately nodded their agreement.

The ride to the hospital was silent. Triss’ hands clenched on the steering wheel. She’d explained to them all what the Doctors had said, about how Jaskier had lost the baby. They’d taken it better than when Triss had called Jaskier’s parents to inform them. Fuck, that had been hard. Yennefer had offered to do it but she’d had her hands full keeping an eye on both Jaskier and Ciri what with Geralt not being there. So she had steeled her shoulders and phoned Jaskier’s parents to tell them what had happened.

Jaskier didn’t see his parents often, only visiting a few times a year. She knew they’d been ecstatic to here about Jaskier’s pregnancy. His Mother had even mentioned moving closer to help with the newborn, though Jaskier had managed to persuade her that there was no need. He’d once told Triss over a few drinks that as much as he loved his parents they were not only overbearing but incredibly old fashioned. He himself was considered a bit of a black sheep of the family not that it stopped them loving him as much as the rest of the family though it had apparently caused a rift between his parents and Grandparents when they’d told them he was studying music in University instead of becoming a lawyer like his cousin Ferant.

When Triss had called and told them what happened, she’d gotten his Mother on the phone. His Mother had picked up, she was an omega like Jaskier and her grief over the phone had nearly had Triss hanging up. Thankfully Jaskier’s Father had taken the phone from his Mother and Triss had been able to relay the whole news to them. They’d wanted to come down but Triss had managed to persuade them not to. Jaskier wouldn’t want them to rush out of their own retired life style which he knew they enjoyed so much just to visit him in hospital.

She knew Jaskier wouldn’t want to Vesemir, Lambert and Eskel taking time out of their own busy lives to see him in hospital. Not because he didn’t want to see them but because he didn’t want them to worry. It was the same reason he kept insisting Triss, Yennefer and Ciri go home and get some sleep and change. The only person Jaskier hadn’t tried to send away was Geralt because they all knew the stubborn ridiculous alpha wouldn’t listen to a word Jaskier said. Triss was glad that Jaskier wasn’t trying to get Geralt to go home for a few hours though. Despite the fact the ridiculous man had had a total of 1 shower (one they’d had to force him into after a full day of sitting in the same clothes he’d travelled in). No, Jaskier needed him there and Geralt needed to be there. They needed each other.

Which was why she was furious when Yennefer had confronted Geralt about his leaving. She understood why Yennefer had done it, despite herself she agreed with Yennefer doing it but there was a time and a place. Geralt had just lost his daughter and guilting the man into submission just wasn’t fair.

As they pulled up at the hospital car park, Eskel and Lambert immediately exited the car without a word to her. Vesemir paused, looking at for a moment as if to see if she needed any help. Triss had just smiled, squeezing his hand softly. She’d be fine. It wasn’t her that had lost a child.

………..

Vesemir walked into the waiting area with a heavy heart. He kept his emotions off his face though, kept his face stoic even as pain filled his heart. Ciri was the first to greet him. After hugging Lambert and Eskel fiercely she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Vesemir hugged her back, enjoying the warmth of the hug his Granddaughter always gave him.

Vesemir had thought it was a miracle when he’d gotten his boys. He’d never had love before, didn’t have a family. All he had was the army, his job and he hadn’t realised what he’d been missing until he’d been give command of his boys. Geralt had been his first recruit, closely followed by Eskel and Lambert. The 3 worked well together, were like brothers in a lot of ways. Geralt was the quieter of the 3, brooding and married to his job, a lot like Vesemir himself was. Eskel was just as quiet as Geralt but he had a calmness about him that helped in any situation, whether that was in the middle of a mission or simply dealing with the others antics. Lambert was loud and uncouth, barely following orders and even when he did it was only just. But the three of them worked and Vesemir had come to love them like his own sons.

And then Geralt had met Jaskier and had changed so thoroughly. He started to become more outgoing, still quiet but now he willingly went out with his brothers rather than being forced out. And he started to smile. Vesemir had caught him on more than one occasion on a particularly long tour holding a picture of Jaskier (and later Jaskier and Ciri) and smiling softly.

When Vesemir had offered Geralt the job with his unit, affectionally nicknamed the Witchers by his boys though Vesemir had no idea why, he hadn’t thought Geralt would take it. Geralt had 2 tours left before he could leave the military and Vesemir had fully expected him to because he and Jaskier were slowly building a life together. But Geralt was a good solider and he loved his job so he had taken the job offer with Jaskier’s backing.

At first Vesemir had been unsure about Jaskier. He was a bright overly enthusiastic omega who in Vesemir’s opinion didn’t take life seriously enough. But seeing the effect he had on Geralt, seeing how much Geralt had changed for the better had warmed Jaskier to him. And then Jaskier hadn’t been angry or furious or hateful towards any of them when Geralt had taken the job offer, cementing Vesemir’s opinion of Jaskier for the better.

Vesemir had been the first person Geralt told when he said he couldn’t get Jaskier pregnant. He’d been quiet the weeks leading up to the confession and after being rammed to the ground by Letho Geralt had been radiating anger. Vesemir had taken him aside, demanding to know what was wrong because his boys couldn’t be at each other’s throats, not in this job when they were the only thing standing between each other and life and death. Geralt had admitted to him what the Doctors had said and Vesemir had felt the pain of Geralt’s confession.

And then Geralt had come to him and told him about their plans to adopt. He’d asked for time off and Vesemir had granted it willingly. He’d never told Geralt but he and the other Witchers had pooled their time off together to ensure Geralt could have as much time as needed, rather than the poxy few weeks the army gave out. 

Ciri was a breath of fresh air and the Witchers had fallen for her the second they met her. She was an integral part of her family and they all loved her equally. Vesemir, who had never thought it possible that he would have his boys let alone a grandchild, had been over the moon with gratitude to Geralt and Jaskier both for letting him into their lives.

Jaskier and Geralt had come to Vesemir together to tell him about the pregnancy, to tell all of the Witchers together. The Witchers had a standing night out once a month, one Jaskier regularly attended so when Geralt had appeared with Jaskier on his arm they hadn’t said a word. Jaskier had slotted himself between Aukes and Letho as Aidan dealt him into the card game they were playing. None of them had noticed anything different, though later Vesemir would realise that the love and affection on Geralt’s face had grown significantly since the last time he’d seen the pair together, and for good reason.

Coen had offered to get them all drinks and when Jaskier had blushed and said he wasn’t drinking, hand coming to rest on his stomach softly, Vesemir had felt pride fill him. “We’re pregnant.” Jaskier had said, Geralt walking over and wrapping arms around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier had leaned into him, hands still resting against his belly as the Witchers stared at him in shock. And then Eskel had thumped Geralt on the shoulder before pulling Jaskier up and into a long hug, followed by Lambert and then Letho and Aukes and Aidan and Coen and then finally Vesemir himself.

And now the baby was gone.

“Fuck you look like shit.” Lambert, as inappropriate as always, grunted as Geralt walked into the waiting room. In fairness, Lambert wasn’t far wrong. There were bags under Geralt’s eyes and his shoulders were hunched, lines on his face that hadn’t been there previously. He looked like he’d aged years in a very short period of time.

“Geralt.” Eskel grunted, voice filled with emotion as he pulled his brother into a hug. Geralt said nothing as he returned the hug. Lambert went next, slapping Geralt on the shoulder as he did so.

Ciri had moved away from Vesemir, going to sit next to Triss who had just walked into the waiting room. “What happened?” Triss asked and Geralt seemed to sage in response.

“The Doctor’s said Jaskier’s started lactating.” Geralt gruffly replied, letting Eskel shove him into a chair. “They had to sedate him.”

“What the fuck for? Those bastards have no right.” Lambert growled, anger in his tone. Anyone else might have thought it was anger towards the Doctors for sedating Jaskier but Vesemir knew Lambert to well. Anger was just how he coped.

“Shut up!” Ciri yelled, jumping to her feet as she glared at Lambert. “Papa’s hurting and they’re only doing what they have to, to make him better.” The receptionist was glaring at them and Eskel quickly placed a hand on Lambert’s shoulder to guide him to seated. Ciri was breathing angrily, tears streaming down her face and Vesemir winced. This must be hard for the girl.

Geralt moved to sit next to Ciri but the girl automatically glared at him, shoving his hand away and stalking to sit next to Lambert. “Sorry Uncle Lambert.” She whispered. Lambert just grunted, wrapping a hand around her shoulder and bringing her close. Geralt looked on in despair as Ciri refused to meet his eye.

“Jaskier will be ok.” Vesemir stated, voice firm in his belief as he surveyed the room. “He’s strong, he’ll make it through this.”

“He’s hurting.” Triss said, voice thick with emotion as a tear fell down her eye. Yennefer took her hand and squeezed softly but Vesemir thought that might be as much for her own benefit as Triss. 

“I never said it’d be easy.” Vesemir replied.

“I should be with him.” Geralt growled, standing up. His eyes were on the floor as he stalked past them only pausing when Vesemir placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Jaskier will get through this.” Vesemir growled, voice low as he spoke. Geralt just grunted, not meeting his eye as he stalked away.

…………

Geralt felt defeated, fuck it he was defeated. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make this better, how to make Jaskier feel better. Geralt wasn’t the one to offer comfort in this relationship, he barely had a grasp of his own emotions let alone being able to offer support and comfort to his loved ones. He was trying, fuck he was trying harder than he’d tried anything in his entire life. But Jaskier wasn’t getting better, fuck if anything he was getting worse.

Geralt had thought the tears were bad. He’d thought he’d seen the worst of it when Jaskier had broken down when he’d started lactating. But this was so much worse, so much worse. When Jaskier had woken after being sedated, Geralt had been hopeful, Jaskier had been relatively calm making Geralt think that the worst was behind them, that Jaskier would start getting better. He had to get better.

Except Jaskier wasn’t. It was like Jaskier wasn’t even there. He responded when someone asked him a direct question but with a vague enough answer Geralt was sure he wasn’t actually listening. E barely ate, Geralt having to encourage and nearly beg Jaskier to eat at least something instead of swirling the food around on the plate or just staring at it blankly. His previously storm grey pain filled eyes now just stared blankly ahead, no emotion in them at all. Most of the time Jaskier spent curled in the bed usually with Geralt’s arms around him pretending to sleep. 

Jaskier made a bit of an effort when Ciri was in the room, forcing a brittle smile on his face upon her entrance. But he couldn’t force himself to listen or interact with his daughter. After a few minutes of Ciri trying to engage Jaskier in conversation she would give up, instead climbing onto the bed and nestling herself next to Jaskier. Jaskier would smile softly at that, wrapping one hand over Ciri’s shoulder and holding her close while the other rested over his belly, trembling all the while. And then the smile would be gone and the quiet numbness would return.

It broke Geralt’s heart to see. And every time it happened, Ciri or Yennefer would give him an accusing look as if Geralt was to blame for this. In a way Geralt was. If anyone was going to get through to Jaskier it would be Geralt. And Geralt was failing. He was failing and because of his failure, they were losing Jaskier to his all-encompassing grief.

The only thing that seemed to trigger any sort of emotion from Jaskier was when the nurses brought the milk pump to relieve the pain in Jaskier’s breasts. Jaskier would whimper, silent tears falling down his face as the machine pumped the breast milk from his body. In those times Geralt would silently run a hand through Jaskier’s hair and talk to him about anything and everything, desperately trying to get Jaskier’s mind off what was happening. When they were done, Geralt would get into the bed and gather Jaskier into his arms as Jaskier silently cried into his chest until the tears were all dried up and he went back to the numbing silence.

And now, 10 days after losing their daughter, Jaskier was being released. Triss had dropped off a change of clothes a few days ago and Eskel was here to drive them home. Ciri had demanded to be there when they took Jaskier home so she was here as well, Eskel would drop her off at Yennefer’s when he was done. As much as Ciri wanted to be there for Jaskier, Geralt couldn’t help but think Ciri needed a break from all of this. It was the first thing he and Yennefer had agreed on since all this started.

Jaskier was staring at his hands as they waited for the Doctor to come and sign the release forms. The dark blue maternity pants Triss had brought him sat a little baggy, the pregnancy weight slowly starting to drop off him and Geralt didn’t know whether to be thankful the physical evidence of the pregnancy was leaving or sad that soon there would be no evidence their little girl lived at all. He was wearing a light green shirt that brought out the green flecks in his eyes, or would if Jaskier’s eyes weren’t the dulled grey they had been for the last 10 days.

Ciri was sitting next to Jaskier, nervously filling the silence with chatter. It was something Jaskier would usually do and the fact he wasn’t left Geralt’s heart aching. Eskel leant against the door, plastic bag in hand with all the supplies Jaskier would need. A breast pump to remove the excess milk, something Geralt had been shown how to use as Jaskier had refused point blank, pain medication and a few sedatives in case of emergencies (not that Geralt had any intentions of drugging Jaskier again), and pamphlets of how to deal with the loss of a child with the name and number of the hospital physiatrist on the back. Geralt knew he’d have to talk to Jaskier about speaking to soon but right now all he could think about was getting Jaskier home.

The door opened and Regis stepped in with a sheet of forms which he handed to Geralt to sign. “If you have any pain or if there’s any blood then I’d like you to come back in as soon as possible.” Regis was saying, eyes focused on Jaskier but Geralt knew the words were for him. Jaskier hadn’t even moved his gaze from the floor to notify that he’d seen the Doctor come in. “We’d recommend talking to someone, it usually helps and they can prescribe medication to help with the emotional pain. The numbers in the pamphlets I gave you.” Eskel lifted the bag up to show they had them. “If you have any more questions then…”

“Where is she?” Jaskier asked, interrupting Regis and sending the room into silence. It was the first thing Jaskier had said without prompt in days. “My daughter, where is she?”

“She’s in the morgue.” Regis answered, voice careful as if he was talking to a frightened animal.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Emotion clogged Geralt’s throat as Jaskier spoke. He could see tears dripping down Jaskier’s face as he asked the question. Eskel and Ciri were frozen in place., Geralt could see Ciri’s shoulder shaking minutely as if dreading the answer.

“That’s up to you.” Regis stated, voice quiet and calm. “There’s a funeral home that deals with stillborn babies, I can give you the number. They can organise a funeral for your daughter.” Jaskier sobbed quietly, Geralt moving to wrap an arm around him at the same time Ciri moved to press close to his other side. Jaskier shook between them, emotion heavy in the air. “They’ll need a name.”

Geralt felt his heart stutter at that. They’d never discussed names, thinking they had all the time in the world. “I…we never…” Jaskier started, panic clear in his tone as he trembled next to Geralt. Ciri squeezed his hand as Geralt subconsciously pulled Jaskier closer.

Geralt ran a hand through Jaskier’s hair, remembering the day he asked Jaskier why he’d called himself that. It was the day after he’d met Jaskier’s parents, his parents who called Jaskier Julian. Jaskier had rolled his eyes and grinned at Geralt happily, “I needed a stage name at University and it stuck.” Jaskier had grinned, blue eyes shining in the sunlight. “It means yellow flower. I’ve always loved dandelions and buttercups and I figured calling myself Dandelion was a step to far.” Jaskier had proceeded to pick up a daisy from the grass under feet and tuck it behind his ear, smiling brightly.

“Daisy.” Geralt said without thinking, wincing as Jaskier froze in his grip.

“Daisy.” Jaskier whispered, hand hovering over his belly but this time it didn’t tremble as he leant close to Geralt. “Our little Daisy.”


	7. Chapter 7

Jaskier was quiet as Eskel pulle the car outside of their home. Ciri was sat next to him, relegating Geralt to the front who had kept glancing back to Jaskier throughout the drive home. Ciri had a firm grip on his hand the whole way home and it helped ground Jaskier from his swimming thoughts.

Daisy, his daughter had a name. A name Jaskier could call her, remember her by. It made her seem more real somehow. Like she’d been a person rather than a baby he’d carried for over 6 months but only held the once. He could almost imagine what her life could have been like now. She would have been amazing. She would have been everything.

“I’ll visit tomorrow.” Ciri said, wrapping her arms fiercely around Jaskier’s neck and kissing him on the cheek.

Eskel glanced in the mirror, pained expression in his eyes as he smiled softly at Jaskier. “Anything you need you ring us ok?” Jaskier nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

Geralt opened the door for him, taking Jaskier’s hand and gently pulling him to his feet. After so many days bed ridden, Jaskier was shaky and hesitant on his legs and was grateful for the support as Geralt gently walked him up the drive. He heard Eskel pull the car away and Ciri shout “Bye!” but all his mind could concentrate on was the wild flowers blooming outside their home.

Anyone else would just see weeds in the flowers Jaskier let grow wild outside their home. He knew if not for him Geralt would have pulled the weeds from the plant pots years ago but Jaskier had always loved the smell of wild flowers more than anything. Dandelions and buttercups ran wild in every plant pot, the yellow bright like the sun, making Jaskier smile whenever he saw or smelt them. And dispersed randomly in all the pots small daisy’s. Jaskier had spent much of his own and later Ciri’s childhood pulling daisy’s from the ground and creating daisy chains or crowns from the simple white flower.

Now as he looked at the daisy’s scattering his garden he thought of his Daisy. His Daisy sitting in their garden, Jaskier plaiting wildflowers into her long silver hair. He only saw the back of her head in his mind, the white blond (almost silver-like) hair the day she’d been born the only true characteristic he knew for certainty his daughter had. He could try and imagine her with his eyes, or Geralt’s or even Ciri’s bright emerald gaze but it felt wrong to pretend to know what colour her eyes would be when he had never seen them.

Geralt’s hand on his waist, pulled him from his thoughts as he let his silver-haired mate walk him into their home. Someone had been in and cleaned the pool of blood from the floor. The living room had been tidied and Jaskier could see from where he was stood the pots he’d been meaning to put away had been washed and put away.

“Go upstairs, I’ll grab you something to eat.” Geralt said, kissing Jaskier’s head softly and with one lingering touch before letting go and walking into the kitchen. Jaskier stood silent for a moment before letting his feet carry him upstairs.

He’d left his shoes by the front door so his sock cladded feet padded quietly up to the room. He felt numb as his fingers trailed up the staircase. The phantom sound of a baby crying in the nursery had Jaskier pause. He could imagine Geralt walking out of their bedroom, silver hair brushed in a ponytail, pyjama pants on and shirtless as he went to settle their daughter back down. He closed his eyes and imagined Geralt’s soft voice quietly talking to their Daisy as he settled her back into sleep.

Unbidden his feet took him to the entrance of the nursery. It was just as they’d left it. Half painted with sheets and bits of construction surrounding the room. He couldn’t help but smile as a memory crossed his mind.

……7 weeks ago……

Jaskier leant against the doorway to the nursery, hand resting on his belly as he tried to stifle a laugh at the sight that greeted him. Lambert, Aidan, Eskel, Letho, Aukes and Coen were all in the room. Lambert and Aidan had bright yellow paint streaked down their clothes while Letho and Aukes looked utterly absurd as they stood looking at a shelf they’d just put up trying to decide if it was straight or not. Coen was diligently painting his section of the wall, having more success than the others and barely covered in any paint. Eskel had a paint brush in hand, glaring at the wall as the yellow paint was absorbed by the blue they’d painted the room only a few weeks ago as if it had personally offended him.

“You couldn’t just leave it blue could you?” Lambert moaned as he spotted Jaskier standing there. Jaskier laughed, having the decency to feel a little guilty even as he nodded his head silently into the room.

“The blue was too cold, yellow makes the room look warmer.” Jaskier replied, laughing loudly as Lambert grumbled about “Ridiculous, over bearing pregnant omega, don’t know how Geralt deals with you.”

“He doesn’t.” Jaskier replied back with a grin. “He just knows not to say no.” Lambert grumbled in annoyance and then yelled as Aidan flicked yellow pain onto the back of his shirt.

“Fucking bastard.” Lambert growled.

“You’ll have to mind the language when the baby comes.” Letho grinned and lambert turned to glower at him.

“Didn’t do Ciri any harm.” Lambert grinned.

“No but I think Geralt was going to murder you when Ciri shouted fuck over the dinner table.” Eskel retorted and Jaskier laughed brightly. Ciri had been 7 at the time and the swear word coming from her mouth had instantly been blamed on Lambert, rightly so as the man couldn’t control his own swearing at the best of times, let alone around a 7 year old.

He rubbed his hand over his swollen belly as he watched the Witchers bickering, yellow paint flying across the room. Arms suddenly wrapped around his waist and Jaskier giggled, letting himself fall back into Geralt’s arms. “You shouldn’t be here, the paint fumes aren’t good for the baby.” Geralt growled, kissing Jaskier’s neck as Jaskier giggled softly. Geralt’s hands rested on top of Jaskier’s over the baby bump and he sighed happily.

“Got it covered.” Coen shouted back, motioning to the open window, letting in the fresh air to disguise the smell of pain. Geralt grunted, making no move to make Jaskier leave as they stood in the doorway. Jaskier had felt an overwhelming feeling of love, warmth and safety wrapped in Geralt’s strong arms.

……Now……

Jaskier blinked back tears as he looked into the room. Patches of the blue he’d insisted on painting the room when they’d first decided to use the old storage room as a nursery peaking out from behind the yellow. The Witchers had been coming back after this mission to finish painting the room. The side of the room with the shelves Letho and Aukes had put up would be getting re-done as well. Vesemir had yelled at the two large Witchers about their lack of precision when he’d seen the shelves all slightly wonky so anything put on them wouldn’t stand straight. Vesemir had said he’d come and put them up properly, and give his pups a training in how to put up a shelf straight.

The floor was covered in sheets and Jaskier remembered the carpet he’d picked out ready to be put in the day the painting was done. It had been a dark cream colour, soft under his toes. He and Geralt had planned to go shopping in a few weeks time to pick out curtains and accessories for the room. Ciri had told them not to buy a cot, not very secretly having chosen one for the baby with Coen’s help. Jaskier had seen it by accident on Ciri’s computer screen when he’d been collecting her washing the other week but had resolutely pretended he hadn’t, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

Despite the unfinished look of the room, Jaskier could imagine exactly how it should look. Bright and sunny, warm and inviting. The wooden cot Ciri had chosen sitting in the middle, a rocking chair in the corner where Jaskier could sit holding his daughter. The door would be decorated with little Daisy’s, proclaiming this to be Daisy’s room. She would have loved it.

Arms wrapping around his waist pulled Jaskier from his melancholy thoughts and he leant back into Geralt’s warm safety. Neither said a word as they stood quietly looking at the room their daughter should have been in. Jaskier closed his eyes, his minds eye creating the world in which their daughter had lived perfectly.

“She would have had such a good life.” Jaskier whispered as Geralt stiffened behind him. “Geralt?” Jaskier asked, turning around in Geralt’s hold only to freeze as he saw the emotion warring in Geralt’s face. “Oh, dear heart. It’s ok. Let it all out.” Jaskier wrapped arms around Geralt’s shoulders and pulled his alpha down so his face was buried in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. “Let it out.” Jaskier whispered.

……….

Geralt fought against the all encompassing grief washing through him but held tightly in Jaskier’s arms he couldn’t help but let it all out. He wept, wept like he hadn’t since his Mother had left him in the foster care. The tears fell from him in waving sobs that left him shaking in Jaskier’s arms. At some point his knees gave out and they ended up on the floor of the corridor. Geralt wrapped tightly around Jaskier, Jaskier holding him gently as he stroked his back softly.

When the tears finally stopped, Geralt leant back to see Jaskier’s own face wet with tears. But instead of the stormy grey dead look in those eyes, Jaskier’s eyes were a dimmed blue and there was a soft smile on his face as he started to speak.

“She had your hair.” Jaskier began, voice soft as he ran his hands through Geralt’s own silver hair. “Wed have let it grow out. She’d probably have fought it when she was older and cut it all off. You’d have been furious about it.” Geralt chuckled wetly as fresh tears fell down his face. Jaskier’s tears hadn’t stopped but the smile on his face only grew as he spoke. “She’d have been perfect. Smart and beautiful and forever making us run around silly trying to keep up with her.”

“She’d have been as much trouble as you.” Geralt found himself saying, Jaskier gasping in mock horror even as he chuckled softly.

“And she’d have been as brave as you.” 

“No.” Geralt said, shaking his head and moving to look at Jaskier as he spoke. “She would have had your strength, your bravery. She’d have been perfect because you would have raised her as perfectly as you did Ciri.”

Geralt saw the frown appear on Jaskier’s face as he ran long nimble fingers down Geralt’s cheek. “No Geralt, how we raised Ciri. She would have been perfect because of how we raised her.” Jaskier put emphsasis on the word ‘we’ but Geralt shook his head sadly.

He’d had a lot of time to think in the hospital and he’d come to a startling conclusion, one he doubted he never would have if not for them loosing their daughter. “Jaskier, you don’t have to pretend I did anything special.” Geralt whispered, seeing Jaskier begin to protest but stopping him with a finger to his lips. “If it wasn’t for you Ciri wouldn’t have had the life she does now. If it wasn’t for you and Yennefer she wouldn’t be the person she is today. You raised her, not me, you.”

“Geralt, that’s just ridiculous.” Jaskier stuttered, blue eyes brightening in their refusal to believe Geralt’s words. 

“It isn’t Jask, and you know that.” Geralt took Jaskier’s hands in his own and squeezed softly. “I was never there. I have never been there.”

“You’ve been here when it counted.” Jaskier argued but Geralt shook his head.

“No I haven’t. I wasn’t there when Ciri was still getting used to us, I left for work and you had to make Ciri trust us on your own. I wasn’t there when you got called into the school because Ciri was fighting, you had to deal with Ciri’s anger alone. I wasn’t here when Ciri was ill for the first time, when you called me in tears because you didn’t know what to do when our daughter had a fever. I wasn’t here when you lost our baby. I’m never here when you need me. You have to deal with it all alone.” Geralt felt tears run down his face as he dropped his head to stare at the floor below him.

“No.” Jaskier said, voice clearer and more determined than Geralt had heard it in so long. His blue eyes shone with determination as he took Geralt’s face in his hands and brought it up to look at him. “Don’t you ever blame yourself for never being here and don’t you ever think that you weren’t here when we needed you. You helped as much as I did, more than I did even bringing Ciri out of her shell.” Geralt went to argue but Jaskier shook his head in refusal. “You’re the one that made Ciri realise she loved us, you’re the one she wanted every time she was ill or scared. Or don’t you remember all those times she climbed into our bed those first few years and clung to you, not me and demanded you scare away the monsters under her bed. You, Geralt Rivia, are her hero and she loves you more than anything. Don’t for a second think you weren’t there for her.”

“Daisy.” Geralt whispered, still protesting Jaskier’s words despite everything Jaskier said.

“There was nothing you could do. Being here wouldn’t have stopped it helping, wouldn’t have made it better.” Tears flowed down Jaskier’s face as his hands came to rest on his belly, trembling softly. Geralt took them in his and squeezed softly. “Ciri should have had to phone the ambulance, I…I should have been…I should have been stronger…” Jaskier choked on the words, silent sobs filling his body as Geralt wrapped his arms around his omega and pulled him close. Jaskier buried his face into Geralt’s chest crying softly but continuing to speak regardless. “But we couldn’t have known it would have happened and despite the fact that we needed you then, you were there when it counted. I…I couldn’t have gotten through this last week without you.”

Geralt ran a hand through Jaskier’s hair, letting his own tears fall silently as he held Jaskier close. They sat there for a long time before Geralt finally spoke again. “I’m not leaving again.” Jaskier looked up with bright blue eyes, mouth opening to protest but Geralt shook his head. “I should have been here. I know you don’t blame me but I blame me. I’ve been selfish, I haven’t thought about how my leaving affected you or Ciri for a single second and before you argue it does affect you, I know it does.”

“I know.” Jaskier whispered, hand trailing over Geralt’s chest. “I always miss you when you’re gone.” Geralt felt his heart break at the silent admittance, one Jaskier had never given him but Geralt had always known deep down was true.

“Do you want me to leave again Jask? The truth because I don’t want to.” Geralt whispered and he knew he didn’t, he’d never wanted to leave them. Looking back, remembering how it had grown harder and harder over the years to say goodbye Geralt could finally admit he hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d wanted to stay with his family each and every time.

“I never wanted you to leave. We need you here.” Jaskier whispered, voice breaking and Geralt nodded, kissing Jaskier’s head softly.

“Then I’m not going anywhere every again.”


	8. Chapter 8

The funeral was exactly 3 weeks after Jaskier had lost their daughter. It was a simple ceremony with only Jaskier, Geralt, Ciri, Yennefer, Triss, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Aidan, Letho, Aukes and Coen in attendance. The graveyard was quiet as the tiny box containing Jaskier’s little girl was lowered to the ground. Jaskier was standing close to Geralt, tears flowing freely as he watched his little girl lowered into the dirt. Ciri was at his other side, her hand a steady weight in his as she stood close to his side.

When the coffin was lowered, Jaskier was the first to step forward. His held a bunch of wildflowers he’d picked from their garden in his hand. Dandelions and buttercups and tiny little daisy’s scattered on the bouquet. His legs shook with the weight of his grief and he would have collapsed to the ground if not for Geralt’s hand suddenly finding his.

Looking up, Jaskier saw the tears in Geralt’s own eyes as they looked down at the small grave. His own hand clutched a similar bouquet as Jaskier. Jaskier let his own flowers drop softly from his hand and into the grave, closely followed by Geralt’s. His eyes lifted to the gravestone with Daisy’s name in neat script across the stone.

His heart seized in pain but as he turned to look at his family gathered behind him the pain seemed to lessen just a little bit. Geralt’s arms wrapped around him as they walked backwards a little. Jaskier rested his own head on Geralt’s shoulder, watching as each member of their family walked to the tiny grave and dropped their flowers inside.

As Jaskier watched he felt the all encompassing grief start to ease. He imagined the head of silver hair, the twinkling laugh of a small girl as Jaskier wove daisy’s through her hair and he smiled. His eyes drifted to the words Geralt had helped him choose just under their little girls name and smiled sadly.

_Gone before we even knew you._ A truer statement than anything else Jaskier had ever read.


End file.
